


Little Fall of Rain

by pinksky_redclouds



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime), ヴァイオレット・エヴァーガーデン - 暁佳奈 | Violet Evergarden - Akatsuki Kana
Genre: A LONG while, A LOT of Angst, Aged up Violet, Aka Every dumb thing that Benedict and Iris do together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Benedict and Iris are abnormal dorks, Benedict and Iris are what I like to call Idiots to Not-Quite Lovers, Benedict/Iris get into some bullshit, Cattleya is the Mom Friend, Claudia Hodgins is such a Dad, F/M, Feelings, Flashback scenes galore, Gilbert is alive, Grab your tissues, I apologize in advance for making you feel things, If you yell at me in my inbox for writing this your comments WILL be deleted, Mentions of Sex, Motherhood, Nothing is graphic because i don’t even know how to be graphic, Pregnancy, Self-Indulging Author Coming Through, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violet is a good mom, after she figures some stuff out anyway, also, and it is so awkward, and without using the word sex, but nothing graphic, childbirth happens, emotions are difficult, he just doesn’t show up for a while, i am defensive bc I’ve never done this kind of thing before, lots of feels, non graphically, sex is talked about at one point, she’s twenty in this, so many feelings, so much angst like guys seriously have you seen this show, sorry about that, this story is sad but with its lighter moments, this will be happy by the end but it’s a long ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksky_redclouds/pseuds/pinksky_redclouds
Summary: This was not supposed to happen to Violet. Her major’s plan was for her to live a life completely free of the army and battlefields and orders—for her to be completely free of him. And yet, thanks to a night spent together before the battle that would win a war, Violet is left with more to figure out than just those three words from her major.Life after the war for Auto-Memory Doll Violet Evergarden will be difficult. She will have to learn not only to understand the feelings of the people around her as well as her own, and come to terms with the loss of her major, but as time goes on, she will have to learn something that is difficult for even the most prepared of people—and Violet was hardly prepared for something like this.Violet will have to learn how to be a mother.
Relationships: Benedict Blue/Iris Cannary, Cattleya Baudelaire/Claudia Hodgins, Gilbert Bougainvillea/Violet Evergarden
Comments: 117
Kudos: 148





	1. A New Life Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adhd_mess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhd_mess/gifts), [Popcandies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcandies/gifts).

> Hey, guys! This fic should honestly be titled “I Discover Anime” bc I watched this show and immediately wanted to do fic. I should have watched it a long time ago because it’s SO GOOD. The first anime I ever watched, and I LOVED it. I cried like a baby. (Jeez, rewriting the episode with Ann is going to kill me.) Poor Violet is gonna have to deal with a lot. 
> 
> So basically this is a rewrite of the anime (and the OVA on Netflix, which I have yet to watch, but I’m gonna do it all chronologically). And regarding Gilbert’s fate, I’m following the canon of the novel for the most part if ya catch my drift. (He’s alive, guys, relax). I also borrow a lot of elements from the novels for this—for example, mentions of Violet’s (badass) battle axe named Witchcraft. And, yes, Violet *is* pregnant in this AU. If that isn’t your thing, I totally get it. Just don’t come after me in my inbox please. And for the record, Benedict/Iris is more of a background thing. It’s fun though. Hope you like it!
> 
> P.S. the title of this fic is named after the respective Les Mis song because I like the lyric in it “and rain will make the flowers grow”.

Violet sat up in her hospital bed. The pen she grasped in her artificial hand shook as she struggled to form letters with the ink—not only was the metal limb stiff, but there was a strange sensation of pain in her arm, even though the flesh was long gone. Whenever she moved the artificial arm or the fingers attached to it, small ripples of pain would radiate through her. Even so, she managed to scratch letters—albeit somewhat sloppily—onto the paper. She had to contact the major—the long period of silence from him was starting to get concerning.

_Major Gilbert, I've been in the hospital for 120 days now, and my strength has almost recovered. Movement is still a little difficult, and I've been experiencing some physical discomfort, but I can perform my duties. Please allow me to return to my post soon. _

Then, before she could write any more, the pen slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. And right as she bent to pick it up, a gust of wind came through the open window behind her bed, and carried the letter with it.

After that, most of her morning was a blur. Lieutenant Hodgins arrived to collect her from the hospital. She received a suitcase with her belongings in it from the nurse—though her beloved emerald brooch was not among those things. The lieutenant promised to look for it. The nurse asked to speak with him, and she waited in the car he'd sent for the two of them. When he came back, the car drove off, and the lieutenant almost seemed like he'd suddenly taken ill. He acted strangely around her for a few minutes, then offered her a gift in the form of a plush toy dog. They boarded a boat and arrived in Leiden's port, where Hodgins explained to her that she'd be staying with some relatives of her major—the Evergarden household. She accompanied him on a trolley ride; then they walked the rest of the way to the house, where they were welcomed by a kind, elegantly dressed older woman. Hodgins introduced her as the lady of the house.

Presently, Violet was seated at the dining table, where a butler had set out tea and sweets for the three of them. The room was altogether very bright and lived-in, with photographs and paintings on the walls and flower vases in the corner, with plenty of sunlight streaming in from a window. The furniture itself was unlike any Violet had ever seen—polished and gleaming under the light. The curtains and rug were both a rich red color, and the wallpaper was pale green, patterned with roses. It was all very pretty, she decided.

Lady Evergarden made casual conversation with Hodgins while Violet stared down at her teacup. The strong scent made her head swim, and Violet glanced back up, closing her eyes to ward off the wave of dizziness. She'd dealt with something similar a few times in the hospital, if the food they served her had too strong a smell, so she'd figured out how to deal with it fairly quickly.

The lady was in the middle of asking Hodgins about the length of his trip when she noticed Violet's current state. Violet had just blinked open her eyes and saw the older woman watching her, clearly worried. "Violet, dear, are you all right?" Violet simply nodded and provided a short answer. "Yes, I've just had some trouble with dizziness since I was in the hospital. It's not a big problem, though."

"Oh." Lady Evergarden sighed in relief. "Well, if you're sure it's no real concern." Then Violet saw Hodgins, who was seated next to her, staring down at his shoes, an uncomfortable look on his face as he fiddled with the buttons on his vest. If the lady noticed his discomfort, she said nothing of it, instead focusing all her attention on Violet. "Please, dear, have a drink," she said gently. Violet glanced down at the cup of tea in front of her, fighting back a bit of nausea. Slowly, she picked it up, and it rattled in her hands as she did so—the prosthetics were still unsteady. When the lady saw this, she let out a shocked gasp. "I'm sorry! Don't force yourself!"

The teacup slipped from her hands, spilling its contents onto the table. Lady Evergarden rose from her chair, rushing to see to Violet. "Oh! You'll get burned!" Violet shook her head slightly. "It's not a problem. I'm not able to feel the heat."

"But your bandages!" The lady exclaimed. "We have to cool them down quickly. Oliver, bring some ice," she ordered her butler. Before either of them could do anything more, however, Violet slowly removed the bandages covering her hands, revealing that they were in fact made from silver metal instead of flesh and blood. "These arms are made of adamant silver," she explained. "They're a bit clumsy, but they're sturdy. I'm not used to them yet. Someday I'll be able to use them with no problem, though."

Finally, her host relaxed, giving Violet a kind smile. "I see. Can you come this way for a minute?"

The lady took her into another room, where there was a fireplace and photographs on the mantle and less light. Hodgins followed after the two, and watched as the older woman pulled something out of a box and handed it to Violet—a pair of short, dark brown gloves. "I used these gloves when I was younger." As Violet got a good look at them, Hodgins smiled encouragingly. "Those are quite nice. Try them on, Violet."

The others watched as she pulled them onto her hands with her teeth, and Hodgins nodded in approval. "Yeah, they look good on you." Lady Evergarden nodded in agreement. "They do." Violet extended her hands and turned them over, as if inspecting the way the gloves made them look. Hodgins smiled at her, and then—unbeknownst to Violet—his expression shifted to a worried frown, just for a moment.

"Well, I'm gonna get going now. I have to get back to the office," Hodgins said. Violet turned her head to look at him just as he gave her a parting smile. "Violet, be sure to listen closely to Tiffany." Then he turned to glance at the lady. "Speaking of. Before I go, may I speak with you? Privately? It's just a family matter."

Tiffany Evergarden gave him a warm smile and a nod. "All right. But just so you're aware, you don't have to worry about me or Violet. I will act as her mother." Hodgins smiled back and nodded to show he understood, then let out a sigh. "Should we go in the study?"

Tiffany nodded again. "Right this way." Then she glanced back over her shoulder at her new charge. "Wait there, dear. I'll just be a moment, and then we can get you settled in. If you need to, sit down." Violet responded with a tiny nod and "yes, ma'am," and waited until she heard a door closing to lower herself onto the couch. Her feet had been sore ever since the hospital—she hoped it'd go away soon, as it was very uncomfortable.

If she'd been in less pain and therefore more alert, she might've overheard a bit of what Hodgins said to Tiffany.

"_There's something you need to know about Violet."_

* * *

Tiffany Evergarden could barely contain her shocked gasp as what Hodgins had just told her started to sink in. She nodded to show she understood, but could barely form words to answer him. She leaned against the desk as she spoke, suddenly afraid that she'd lose her footing. "And you… you're absolutely sure…?"

Hodgins sighed and nodded, his expression almost grim. "The nurse told me the doctors ran tests. They're sure. But Violet doesn't even know it herself—the nurse refused to let them tell Violet after it became clear that she wouldn't understand. She… left that up to me." He grimaced. "It might be easier for you to explain. After she's settled, of course, but… we can't keep it from her forever." Tiffany nodded, glancing at the door to the study.

"I'll try," she said finally. "It may take a while, but I will try and explain it to her. It isn't going to be easy, mind you." She looked back at Hodgins. "That must be the reason she got dizzy. Poor girl." Tiffany laced her hands together in front of her, closing her eyes.

"I can't even imagine what she's going through. Surviving a war and losing limbs is bad enough, but to be with child on top of that…" Her eyes blinked open, and a tear fell. "I will take care of her. You have my word." Hodgins nodded, smiling gratefully at her. "Thank you, Tiffany. And, because I'm afraid of this… if you find out anything… bad happened to her, tell me. I need to be sure."

Tiffany nodded. "Of course. Take care."

* * *

Once Hodgins left the study, with Tiffany lingering behind him, Violet rose from her position on the couch. "Lieutenant?" She asked. "Why am I being left here? My purpose is to follow the major's orders."

Hodgins stiffened, letting out a sigh. "Look, Violet, I know it may not make much sense right now, but it's Gilbert's wish for you to live happily here. Understand?" Violet folded her arms behind her back, her hands clenching into fists, and nodded. It was short and tense, unlike anything she'd ever done. Hodgins, however, didn't seem to notice this as he left the house.

He didn't make it any more than five feet away from the front door when it burst open. He turned just in time to see Violet sprinting toward him, and he almost instinctively told her she shouldn't be running right as she came to a stop. "The major!" She exclaimed. "Major Gilbert! Why is he leaving me here?" Her cries were bordering on desperate, and she was clutching at one arm with her other prosthetic hand. "Is it because I lost my arms and lost my value as a weapon? If I just trained a little… I'd still be able to fight!"

She was… whimpering. Close to tears.

He gave her a look of deep sympathy and let out a sigh. Only then did the former lieutenant realize just how much pain Violet was in. She was separated from the only sense of normalcy she ever had. "Violet, you know that… well, you know the war is over." She relaxed a bit, her posture less tense. But her eyes dropped to the ground, and when she spoke, she sounded as hapless as ever.

"I am the major's tool," she said simply. "But… if he doesn't need me anymore, then I should be discarded. Please do it. Please discard me somewhere." Hodgins gave her a long, pained look.

And so Violet boarded a train with Hodgins, ready to go wherever he took her to be left behind. She had no use anymore. It was for the best. She was just a tool, who served no purpose without her wielder.

* * *

Therefore, she couldn't help but be surprised when the train took them to the heart of a bustling city. Street cars were everywhere, children ran up and down sidewalks, and people on bicycles wove in and out of the crowds. Violet spotted a few families, leading their young children down the paths. For a moment, Violet wondered if she had ever done that as a young child—she had no memory of her parents, but perhaps they'd been in her life at one point. Then the train stopped, and she exited just behind Hodgins, suitcase in hand.

"Lieutenant Hodgins," she called out to him as they walked. Hodgins stopped, turning back to face her. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—I left the army. I'm not a lieutenant anymore." Violet paused, considering this, and gave a quick nod to show she understood. "Then what should I call you?"

"Call me President," he answered, just as they came up to a massive brick building with towering walls, a sloped roof, and countless windows—some open, some closed. Several bicycles were parked in front. Hodgins smiled a bit in the direction of the structure, then motioned for her to follow him in. "This is my company. I bought an old house and renovated it a bit," he explained, then reminded Violet to watch her step on the floorboards. Their shoes made a particularly loud thudding sound as the pair of them walked. "The first floor has the reception desk," Hodgins went on. Violet glanced around her as Hodgins led her through the building, taking stock of the uniformed girls talking to customers from behind their desks, and countless other workers moving through the halls and up and down the staircases. "The second floor houses the office and the writing department."

That piqued Violet's interest. "Writing?" She echoed, and Hodgins nodded. "Yes. This department writes letters at the requests of our clients." He waved to a man in uniform as he and Violet walked by, and the employee gave a stiff bow in return. "There are still many people who don't know how to write," Hodgins said, as they came to a stop in front of a door at the end of a far hallway.

"I didn't know how to write either," Violet answered, her eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. "Until the major taught me how." Hodgins stiffened a bit, as if he hadn't expected that reply from her, then gave a small smile. "I see." He opened the door, leading Violet down another path, and explaining the company as he went along. "I was thinking about starting a business once the war ended. The government's postal service doesn't address the needs of civilians, so I thought it would be a good opportunity," he concluded with a slight chuckle.

Then Hodgins stopped walking and spun on his heels to face Violet. Naturally, she planted her feet where she stood, waiting for him to speak. "Now. Here's your orders, Violet Evergarden." He paused, letting the weight of the name sink in. She was now living as a civilian, as the ordinary human being Violet Evergarden. She was no longer simply the major's weapon that he'd named Violet.

"The fact is that Gilbert left you in my care. So I'm going to give you orders in his place," Hodgins explained. Violet caught a glimpse of something flickering across the president's blue-green eyes—something she recognized all too well. _Pain_. It didn't make much sense to her for him to feel pained at the mere mention of her major—but then again most feelings made no sense to her, she reasoned. Violet was intimately familiar with the sensation of pain, and had a decent grasp on anger. Fear she could decipher. Pleasure she knew a little of, though not much. But outside of that, her understanding of feelings was all but nonexistent.

When Hodgins spoke again, his voice had softened a little and his tone was more gentle. "You're still very useful, Violet. You can work. Right here." Then, he turned to the side, and, raising his voice, called out for someone. "Benedict!"

A voice emanated from behind a desk tall enough that Violet couldn't see any part of the speaker's face or body. But the voice was low and drawling and carried a tone of boredom with it. "Yeah, what's up, President?" Hodgins rolled his eyes at the man's impudence and snapped, "You're supposed to say, 'How can I help you, President?'"

There was a brief pause, a scoff, and then Violet turned her head just in time to see the man who was apparently called Benedict appear from behind the desk, his shoes clicking against the floor. He didn't seem to be too perturbed by Hodgins' rebuke. "So? What's up—OW!"

Benedict was cut off midsentence as Hodgins quickly stepped over and gave him a sound whack on the head with a rolled-up piece of paper. "Why'd you do that?!" Benedict shouted, and Hodgins sighed in frustration. "You didn't listen to me!" Then Hodgins turned back to Violet, a slight smile on his face as he absentmindedly tapped the paper roll against the side of his own head, albeit much more gently. Benedict stood beside him, glowering at the older man and holding one hand to the back of his head where Hodgins had struck him.

"This is Benedict; he's a postman here. He's an old friend from before I started this company." Hodgins shot Benedict a grin and was met with a hostile glare in return. "And, Benedict," Hodgins went on, glancing back at Violet, "Let me introduce you to Violet." Violet moved one arm up, ready to salute on instinct, but then remembered the rules and stopped herself halfway. She gave Benedict a slight bow as Hodgins concluded, "She'll be a postman. Starting today."

Benedict regarded Hodgins with a look that Violet couldn't name with any certainty, but her major might have called it confusion. Benedict glanced over at Violet for a moment, then back at Hodgins. "But she's so young. Pretty, too. She'd make a better Doll than a postman."

_What's a Doll?_ Violet wondered, but said nothing aloud. Hodgins only gave Benedict a firm look and replied, "She's quite capable of performing the duties I've given her." Then he turned and began to walk towards the door, giving Benedict a parting order from over his shoulder. "I'm going to go to the bank for a bit. Teach her what she needs to know."

Benedict remained standing there, still as a statue, until Hodgins left the room. Then his shoulders slumped, his weight shifted, and he let out a heavy sigh. "All right, kid, come with me."

* * *

The first thing Violet noticed about Benedict, now that she was alone with him, was how much he resembled her. He had the same sandy blond hair, clear blue eyes, and thin frame. He was, however, easily a foot taller than her—though the disparity in their heights was due at least in part to the tall, pointed black shoes he was wearing. The second thing Violet took note of was how different Benedict was from Hodgins. Where the former lieutenant was formal and polite, Benedict was careless and almost downright rude. And Hodgins' clothing—a button-up shirt and a vest—added to the formality he was trying to achieve. At least, she thought her major would have said so. He'd tried to explain things like that to her before. Benedict, however, appeared… Violet thought the word was disheveled. Her major had used that word to describe his brother's appearance more than once. And based on her experience, Benedict seemed to fit a similar description. His white button-up was wrinkled and loose, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and the topmost buttons left undone, revealing another black shirt underneath. The fabric that covered his legs was dark green and had strange slits over the thigh, and it seemed to cling to his skin. All in all, it was unlike anything Violet had ever encountered.

She noticed this all in a span of a few seconds, but said nothing as she trailed after Benedict. The major had taught her well—some observations were best kept to oneself, particularly if they were inconsequential. And right now, it was safe enough to assume the postman's choice in clothing was inconsequential to her own job.

The first place Benedict led her to was a hallway with a row of metal cabinets. He knocked sharply on one, and it gave Violet a moment to notice that he wore some sort of black covering over the palms and back of his hands, but left his fingers exposed—another thing Violet had never seen before. "Put your stuff in here," Benedict ordered, and Violet stood up a little straighter. "Yes, sir."

There wasn't much in her suitcase for her to store away, so that was done relatively quickly. Then, he held out a blue and white uniform shirt for her to change into. "Your uniform. Put it on." Violet nodded and grabbed it from him in one swift move. "Yes, of course, sir."

And Benedict was given one of the biggest shocks of his life when it became clear that Violet had no qualms about removing her blouse in front of him, and he frantically scrambled to cover his eyes as she pulled it over her head. "What—wait—hold on!" He managed to cover both his eyes with his hands, staying that way until he was sure it was safe to look. And when he saw the way the uniform hung loosely from her frame, he groaned. "Oh, it's too big."

"It's not a problem," Violet answered. That was when Benedict noticed the gloves still adorning her hands, and he raised a brow at her as he asked a question. "Wouldn't it be better to take those off?" Violet said nothing in response, only began to remove the gloves with her teeth, and Benedict couldn't help but stare when her prosthetics came into view. "Will it be hard to sort the mail like that?"

Violet shook her head. "No. It's not going to be a problem."

The next step was teaching her to sort out the letters. He pointed to one envelope and the writing scrawled onto it. "Sort them just like it says here, and then put them in those shelves over there." He pointed to his right, where there were towering shelves almost to the ceiling meant for storing mail. Then he looked back at Violet. "There's a huge pile of mail, but you don't have to rush." Benedict knelt down, grabbing hold of a leather bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "And the break room is on the second floor."

Violet raised her arm in a quick salute the way she always had when accepting orders. "I understand, sir." Benedict tensed up for a moment, but if he was unnerved by her response, he said nothing of it and walked right past her. "Okay, see ya."

And so Violet Evergarden set to work.

* * *

The sun was close to sinking below the horizon by the time Benedict came back to check on her. Violet was still dutifully sorting letters onto the shelves, just as she had been right after he left. Then he glanced over to where the enormous pile of mail had been, to find that it was completely gone. All the remaining unsorted letters were sitting on the table in front of Violet. It was enough to get a shocked gasp out of him.

"Sir," Violet greeted him formally, "I've almost completed my duties." Benedict sputtered for a moment, lost for words at the sheer inexplicable dedication this girl had for the task assigned to her. "Were—were you working the whole time? Without taking a break?"

"I'm used to long operations," was all Violet offered by way of explanation. "I did, however, take one five-minute break when I began to feel dizzy." Benedict, who was completely at a loss as to what to do with the new employee, let out a groan. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "So, uh, you maybe wanna try… delivering the mail?"

If Violet was confused by his question, it didn't show on her face, but she still repeated something back to him. "Delivering?" Benedict nodded, gesturing to the letter she held in one hand. "Yeah, you deliver the letter to the address that's written on it." Violet, in turn, examined the writing on the letter, then turned to the side to examine the map hanging on the wall.

She stared at it for a long time, as if she was trying to commit it to memory. Benedict could only regard her with bewilderment, before turning back towards the door. "Anyway, I'm gonna go home now. See you tomorrow."

Violet responded to nothing he said, only continued to stare at the map.

* * *

Elsewhere, an exhausted Claudia Hodgins was leaning up against the back of a train, sighing in frustration as he reflected on the day's events. The creaks and bumps of the train car did nothing to alleviate the weight on his mind. "'We'll discuss financing after reviewing your performance.' Right." He turned to stare out of the window closest to him, and his low mood was only worsened at the sight of a mail cart being pulled down the sidewalk.

"Looks like some companies do nighttime deliveries, too," he sighed. "We couldn't afford that." And then he caught sight of the logo on the mail cart—it belonged to his own company. There was a moment of confusion until he remembered Violet, and then everything made sense.

He got off the train as quickly as possible and all but sprinted through the streets to catch up with her. "Violet!" At the sound of her name being called, she turned to the side and stopped abruptly. Hodgins ran up to her, panting from exertion for a moment before gasping out, "What are you doing?"

"Delivering the mail," she answered.

After he'd sequestered her, Hodgins took Violet with him to a restaurant, where he promptly met up with and cornered Benedict about sending Violet out on night deliveries. "Uh, I meant that you could deliver the mail tomorrow!" Benedict sputtered at Violet as the three of them crowded around a table of food.

Hodgins nodded in agreement as he helped himself to some of the items set before him, and let out a concerned sigh. "And make sure to take breaks during work. You just got out of the hospital, after all." _And you'll be having a baby in about five months_, he thought, but obviously did not say. Violet wasn't even aware of that fact herself, and if things kept going the way they were, it would be left up to him to explain things to her.

Not a conversation he was looking forward to having.

"It's not a problem," Violet answered Hodgins, and Benedict finally lost his patience. He turned to face Violet and snapped, "All right, you know what? It _is_ a problem!"

Hodgins, afraid that things would escalate if Benedict completely lost his temper, decided to cut in and change the subject. "Now, listen, Violet, go ahead and eat," he said gently. She still hadn't touched what was in front of her, and someone in her condition especially needed food. Violet nodded and replied with her usual "yes, sir" before picking up her utensils to start eating.

She paused suddenly as she went to cut into her fish, and drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes shut tight. Hodgins regarded her with concern, already knowing full well what was causing her to act like this. "Violet? Are you okay? Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Give me a moment," Violet answered. "The dizziness will pass. I only get nauseous in the morning, and it's better than it used to be." Benedict's eyes widened at her words, as if he was trying to figure things out, but Hodgins spoke up before his tactless employee could interject. He did his best to give Violet an encouraging smile. "You can return to the office after you eat," he said cheerfully. "We only have space in the attic, but you can sleep there."

Violet, who recovered from her dizziness while he spoke and continued to cut into her fish, said nothing in response to him, thus leaving him to fill the awkward gap in conversation—and to do something just in case Benedict still felt like blurting out something thoughtlessly. "Ah… the Evergardens have agreed to take you in and have you live with them… until you can get back on your feet, but it looks like leaving you at the mansion."

Benedict, who had grown bored and was all but laying across his portion of the table, drawled something that indicated he'd probably figured out Violet's condition, much to the indignation of Hodgins. "Yeah, that's a problem."

Hodgins retaliated for his friend's tactlessness by kicking Benedict in the shin under the table. As the two men shouted and argued, Violet paid them no mind as she ate. It was another trick she'd learned from her major: assess how serious a fight is, and avoid minor skirmishes whenever possible.

* * *

Once they had all finished their meal, Benedict bid Hodgins and Violet an awkward goodbye and set off down the street towards his home. This left Hodgins and Violet standing outside the restaurant, and the former lieutenant gave her a kind smile. "Come on, I'll walk you."

He guided her back to the office, the street lamps casting an orange glow that made them both appear to be on fire as they walked. It was silent for a little while, save for the rumbling of trains and trilling of insects, until Hodgins saw fit to break the silence. "So… what were the last orders you received from Gilbert?"

There was no hesitation in the first part of her reply. "He said, 'You have to live and be free.'" Then she stiffened. "And I…" Whatever Violet was trying to say, she seemed to be unable to find words for, and her voice died in her throat. Hodgins sighed, and stopped walking.

"You've… been with Gilbert ever since you were about sixteen years old. You fought beside him in the war for four years. You have no memory of a life before that. However, you're going to learn many things in the future. Although, it might be easier to keep living if… you never learn them." Instantly, Hodgins' mind went back to her unborn baby. Could Violet care for another living thing that would be entirely dependent on her when she hardly knew how to care for herself?

He thought of Gilbert, and the promise he'd made to him about Violet. He wished there was a way for him to talk to his old friend. Gilbert would be able to help him figure out what circumstances led to Violet carrying a child—or at least advise him on how to best help her in that regard. Gilbert knew Violet better than anyone else ever had.

And then there was the matter of her past. Her conscience was bound to catch up with her eventually, as she learned more about the world and the lives of those around her. Hodgins sighed. "You see… you don't realize yet, but your body is on fire, and burning up because of the things you did." Violet looked down at herself, as if checking for literal flames, then frowned up at Hodgins when she found nothing. "I'm not burning."

"Yes, you are," Hodgins replied grimly. Violet only repeated what she'd said before, confused. "I'm not burning! I don't get it!" Hodgins closed his eyes, as if recalling a distant and painful memory. "No, you are burning."

He thought back to Violet at the training grounds, the blood of all those men on her hands as she simply stared blankly across the arena. "I saw you like that and left you alone," he explained. "That's why, when Gilbert left you with me, I saw it as my chance to make amends. Someday, you'll understand what I mean. And you'll realize for the first time that you have many burns." Hodgins paused, set one hand on her shoulder. "That isn't your fault, but you'll have to deal with the consequences nonetheless. I'm sorry."

Hodgins left Violet alone once he'd escorted her to the attic of the postal company. Violet, now left to her own devices, sat perched on the roof in her nightclothes. They had once belonged to her major, since, during the war, he gave her his old ones after hers wore out. She found that something reminding her of the major seemed to linger in the fabric, although it wasn't any sort of scent or stain. It was something she hadn't the words to describe, although that suited her just fine. Violet didn't always feel a need to describe things.

She held one artificial hand out over the drop-off of the building, examining the way the orange light from the street lamps reflected off of the silver metal. Something about the air was making it a little difficult to breathe.

It took Violet a moment to realize that the outside heat was bothering her. So, not caring if anyone saw her body—though she doubted anyone would see her that high up, anyway—she unbuttoned her night shirt, leaving it hanging loosely from her shoulders. There was a faint breeze passing through at that moment, and it made her feel much better.

Then, when Violet changed position to glance down at the street below, her eyes fell on her abdomen, and she froze. It was… more pronounced than she'd remembered. The usually flat stretch of skin now stuck out ever so slightly. Violet supposed she'd never noticed before because of all the time spent recovering in the hospital, and she hadn't paid any attention to her body the last few times she'd dressed herself. She wondered how long her stomach had looked like that, and if it was a result of her inactivity in the hospital.

Violet was unable to stifle her curiosity—and she saw no point in doing so, anyway—and reached down with one hand, touching her artificial fingers to her stomach. She knew she wouldn't feel anything besides cold metal on her skin, but the action was almost instinctual, like some unseen force was directing her movements as the artificial hand grazed her skin.

And her heart all but stopped beating when Violet realized that she'd _felt_ something. Not on the surface of her hand incapable of touch, of course, but something… _within_ her. A very slight flutter, like the wings of an insect, turning over in her abdomen. Violet stiffened once more, her breath catching in her throat. She'd never felt anything like that before. The movement was barely perceptible, but at the same time just obvious enough for her to notice. And it was definitely abnormal.

She decided to climb down from the roof and get some sleep, resolving to tell Hodgins about it tomorrow. He'd know how to handle things. He was responsible for her now, after all.

* * *

Early the next morning, Violet busied herself with cleaning the first floor windows of the postal company as she thought about what to say to Hodgins. Expressing concern about her own health wasn't something she was used to doing, unless it was related to her ability to perform well as a weapon. She'd gotten sick many times before in the army, but Gilbert had always been there, caring for her until she felt better. And this… she had a feeling that whatever was wrong with her was unlike anything else she'd ever gone through. It certainly wasn't exhaustion or a simple cold. Violet would have recognized those symptoms immediately.

She was broken from her thoughts when the front doors to the company opened with a loud thud. The sound echoed throughout the otherwise empty floor, and Violet turned her head, expecting to see Hodgins.

The man standing before her, however, was not Hodgins. This was someone she did not recognize—a tall, thin man, in a loose shirt with rolled-up sleeves, dark brown pants, and a vest. His shoes were plain and sturdy, and his messy black hair was covered by a straw hat. And he was looking straight at Violet. "Excuse me… miss Doll?"

There was that word again—Doll. "No, my name is Violet," she answered. The man smiled nervously and gave a slight bow of his head. "Oh. Well, in that case, miss Violet..." He paused, removing his hat and holding it to his chest. A show of respect and deference, Violet knew, although his reason for directing such a gesture at her was something she did not understand. There were a great many things she did not understand. Then the man kept speaking. "Can I get you to write something for me?"

That was when Violet realized he thought she was one of the people who wrote letters for those who could not, just as Hodgins had mentioned before. "Write for…" The man cut her off before she could finish her sentence. "Yeah. I don't know how to write. So, I'd like you to write a letter for me." Violet supposed she could do that—holding a pen was still difficult for her, but she knew how to use a typewriter. And she'd been writing reports to her major ever since he'd taught her to write.

"What should I write?" She asked him. The man hesitated for a moment, then replied. "Uh… do you wanna talk about it here?" Violet regarded him curiously, though she didn't let it show on her face. "Do you think there's a problem with that?"

He stiffened, fingers tightening their grip on his hat. "Oh, well, I, uh…" His words died in his throat for a moment, as if he was having difficulty getting them out. "I heard that a childhood friend of mine… recently received a marriage offer from another man. So…" His hand became a fist, clutched over his heart, his breath shuddering as he struggled to finish speaking. "I want you to tell her this!"

Violet listened to him speak, and then informed him that she was not in fact a letter writer, seeing as she had no idea how to properly express what the man wanted to say. So she took him up one floor to the writing department, where he was immediately sequestered by a young woman with long black hair and purple eyes, dressed in an unusual red outfit that displayed much of her chest. Violet sat next to the man as the other woman wrote his letter, listening as she dictated the words she typed. Something about the letter and the way it was written… it reminded Violet of her major in the days when there was still a war.

"_You were the first person to be kind to me. I appreciated it."_ Violet recalled the day she and her major first met, and the way he drew her into a tight embrace, shielding her from his older brother with his own body. That was the first real protection she'd known, a respite from the harshness of the soldiers of Dietfried's that she had killed. The first real kindness. He'd cleaned her cuts and scrapes with a gentle hand, reassuring her when she instinctively tried to distance herself from him.

"_You were everything to me."_ She remembered marching along the battle lines at his side, those unwavering green eyes stealing glances of her own blue ones. Whenever she was beside him, she felt no fear, whatever the danger was.

"_I would have done anything for you. Anything at all."_ That triggered a memory in Violet of the battlefields, fighting alongside her major as they took down wave after wave of enemy soldiers, her silver battle axe spinning with the controlled frenzy she'd developed as a fierce, lethal weapon. She belonged to the major. Anyone he ordered her to kill, would be dead in seconds. Whatever he needed her to do, she did for him. She remembered the pained looks he gave her as they waited in the trenches to charge the enemy, and his constant whispers that she could hear even over the sounds of gunfire, telling her to be careful. And if she did anything that he deemed too dangerous, he would always try to change whatever path she was on.

"_I want to know how you feel. I want to understand what's in your heart. Even though we're apart now." _Violet's thoughts took her back to the night before the last battle. The way she'd pleaded with her major to let her stay with him after they won the war. He'd broken down in tears and held her to him in an embrace not unlike the one on the day they'd first met. She remembered the way he'd kissed her; him pressing his lips to her own and how soft they had felt. The way Violet had kissed him back and how it had ended with him holding onto her in the darkness, whispering promises that she would be okay, in those last precious hours they had before the final battle began. Violet had wanted, back then. It was a sort of want that she could not adequately describe in words, but knew it was more than simply wanting to follow his orders. It was more as though she wanted _him_.

"_I love you."_ That brought back another memory of the night before the battle. Lying between her major's arms and feeling his slow, steady breaths on her skin. He must have assumed she was already asleep when he said those same three words, judging by the all too slow, careful movements of his fingers as he tangled them in her hair and traced the frame of her shoulders and upper back. He'd moved her hair out of the way in one swift motion and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love you, Violet," he'd whispered, in a tone of voice that reminded her of a prisoner of war confessing to some terrible crime. Violet was very close to drifting off by then, completely safe and warm and protected. The fog of sleep had in fact pulled her under before she could ask him what he meant by that. And the meaning of those words, repeated to her when Gilbert lay bleeding out on the battlefield, still managed to escape her. Just what exactly was love?

"We'll end with that, okay?" the Doll said, breaking Violet from her thoughts. "What do you think?" The Doll gave the man a warm smile, and he laughed nervously. "Great!" Violet remained frozen where she sat, wondering just how that Doll had known what to say in the letter.

Violet stayed there and watched as the letter was placed into an envelope, sealed with wax, and given to the man. She thanked the man for coming in and he gave a stiff little bow, all but running out of the room after that.

Which was when the Doll turned her attention to Violet. "So… who are you?" Her gaze was sharp, though not as piercing as some of the more strict soldiers Violet had encountered. And behind Violet, she knew there were two other girls watching her. One was a tall, limber woman with bronze skin and golden eyes. Her hair was a brownish color and cut messily just above her ears, and she was dressed in a sleeveless black top with a high neck and long, loose pants. She had her arms crossed as she examined Violet. The other girl was small and pale, wearing a striped green dress that almost looked a bit too big for her. Her reddish-brown hair came just barely to her chin, and a pair of round glasses hung from her nose, drawing attention to her wide brown eyes.

Instead of answering the question asked by the first woman, Violet replied, "I don't understand how you knew." The Doll pursed her red lips together, clearly confused. "Hm?" Violet laced her fingers together and sighed. "How did you know… that the man just now… wanted to say 'I love you'?"

And the Doll found herself at a loss for words, unable to answer Violet's question.

* * *

Violet herself went straight to Hodgins after finding out where his office was located, and inquired about the work that the Auto-Memory Dolls did. Hodgins fixed a thoughtful stare on her for the longest, then let out a sigh. "Do you _want_ to work as an Auto-Memory Doll?" Violet nodded. "Yes. It's still hard for me to hold a pen, but I can operate a typewriter."

Hodgins leaned forward from behind his desk, folding his hands in front of him. "No, that's not what I mean. I wanted to ask you why." And Violet's answer came tumbling from her mouth, unable to stop herself from losing the normal control she had when speaking to others. "I just want to know!"

She stopped, taking a deep, shuddering breath before she continued. "'I love you'… what does it mean?" Hodgins was stunned silent by her question for a moment, but she spoke before he could answer her. "The major said those words to me… after he gave me my last orders. It was the first time I'd ever… heard those words said to me." Which was the truth, considering that the real first time she'd heard them, they weren't meant to fall on her ears. She gripped her skirt with one hand, distorting the fabric in her fist. "I just don't understand what that really means, so I thought this might… help me learn." Violet sighed.

Hodgins seemed to relax a little, unfolding his hands and giving her a slight smile. "Normally, people become Auto-Memory Dolls because they do understand that." There was a slight pause, and then he continued. "But, it's okay." Violet, for the first time, understood what he was saying without him having to speak it in no uncertain terms—he would allow her to work as an Auto-Memory Doll.

She blinked gratefully at him and nodded. "There was something else I wanted to ask you about," she said, and Hodgins gave her an inquiring look. "Go ahead," he murmured, motioning with one hand for her to continue.

Quickly, she explained to him what had happened to her last night, and he paled significantly at her words. "Make sure the door is closed," he said softly. "I know exactly what's going on, Violet." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. His fingers laced together and his eyes closed, as if he was deep in thought.

When his eyes opened again, he straightened up and said, "I suppose it's time you and I had a little talk."


	2. The Auto-Memory Dolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait. It’s just that life decided to repeatedly roundhouse kick me around like a Mortal Kombat character—first I got the flu, then I injured my ankle, and two of my pets passed away. It’s been rough. Plus school started back up for me. But, I finally finished this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Hodgins let out a heavy sigh as Violet got up to check and make sure his office door was closed. As she moved to stand back in front of his desk, he leaned forward on one hand. "Now, Violet, I'm going to explain this to you the way I would if you were anybody else, and then you can ask me any questions you have afterwards. Is that okay?" Violet nodded, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "That is acceptable, sir."

"You—" Hodgins stopped, letting out a sigh. "You don't have to call me 'sir'. Not now. Just call me 'Hodgins'. All my friends do. Right now, I'm speaking to you as a friend, not your boss. Understand?" Violet nodded again, but this time she didn't reply. Hodgins nodded back at her and cleared his throat. "Okay. Um." He scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. "First things first, I can offer you some reassurance. I know you're not ill."

Violet shook her head. "But I'm experiencing symptoms of some kind. How can I be completely healthy?" Hodgins, in turn, got up from his chair and moved around to sit on the edge of his desk, allowing him to be closer to Violet. "Well, you see… there's… something that can happen sometimes. It's… normal, relatively speaking, but it can cause discomfort. That's what happened to you," he concluded, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke. "Your symptoms aren't a sign of illness, they're a sign of something else."

"Oh," Violet said flatly. "If I am not ill, then what is my condition a sign of?" Hodgins exhaled heavily, looking down at the floor, then back up at her. "Well, there's really no other way for me to put this, Violet. You're pregnant."

His words hung in the air, and Violet went still. Hodgins braced himself for any number of questions—what that meant, how it happened, what was going to happen to her, and so on. He was not prepared for what came from her mouth instead, however. "My body is… carrying a baby, then?" Hodgins was stunned silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. How, uh… how did you know that?" Violet's eyes closed, as if she was trying to remember. "I asked the major about it once. It was after I overheard another soldier use that word when talking about his wife. The major explained to me that a woman who is pregnant has a baby growing inside her body until it is ready to be born. I know it happens to most animals, as well." She paused, opening her eyes. "I suppose this means that I will have to care for a child once I give birth."

Hodgins nodded, still numb from her matter-of-fact answers. "Most women who are pregnant do. If it's too much for you, though, you could always give it to someone else to raise. You don't have to decide now, though," he put in quickly. "I just wanted you to know that was an option. Since it can be difficult." Violet gave the tiniest of nods. "I see. Will my condition prevent me from working as an Auto-Memory Doll?"

"Ah…" Hodgins had to take a moment to regain his voice. He hadn't anticipated for her being so flippant about the whole ordeal. "No. At least, not… right now. When you get closer to giving birth, you'll have to take some time off to rest, and to recover after it, no matter what you decide to do about the baby. That way you'll avoid hurting yourself." He stopped, considering whether to ask the question that was weighing on his mind—exactly how it had happened. In the end, he decided against it and asked, "Do you have any other questions?"

"I need to know when I'm expected to give birth," she replied evenly. Hodgins gave a little cough and a nod. "Right. The doctors weren't exactly sure, but they estimated you have about five more months. Don't worry," he added reassuringly, "I'll help you figure things out before then." A sigh. "Was there anything else?" He paused for a moment, then interjected, "And if you need to ask me anything later, just come talk to me here. Okay?" Then something else occurred to him, and he added, "Oh, and for now, it would be better if this stayed between us. Even if someone notices and asks about your symptoms, just tell them you've been under the weather."

Violet nodded. "I understand, sir. I don't have any more questions at the moment." He nodded and told her to go back to the writing department and wait for him to meet her there. She gave a stiff bow in return and spun on her heels to leave his office.

Once she had gone, Hodgins buried his head in his hands and groaned. "What the hell happened, Gilbert?" He sighed, anxiously tangling his fingers in his hair. "And just what have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

"She's going to work as an apprentice Auto-Memory Doll, starting today," Hodgins explained to the Doll that Violet had first come across—the woman with long black hair, red lips, and purple eyes. The other two girls Violet had seen were standing on either side of the Doll, but it was clear Hodgins was primarily addressing the woman positioned directly across from him. "Please teach her whatever you can about the job."

The Doll smiled and nodded. "Okay." Violet caught sight of the girl standing to the Doll's right—the girl with round glasses in a green dress. She was staring at Violet, but appeared uncomfortable and directed her eyes to the floor when Violet turned her head to look at the girl. The taller woman standing at the other side of the Doll merely kept her arms crossed. For whatever reason, she didn't look too pleased to see Violet.

After Hodgins left, the two other girls went back to their work, and the Doll turned all her attention to Violet. "Hm. First off… how much do you know about what Auto-Memory Dolls do?" That question was simple enough for Violet to answer. "I know that they write letters at the requests of other people. Lieutenant Hodgins… I mean, the President, told me so."

"Yes, that's right," the Doll said warmly, nodding at Violet. Violet, in turn, let out a soft sigh. "I can't say that I completely understand, but I think I can perform my duties." The Doll opened her mouth to say something else, when a low groan and the sound of someone jumping out of their chair interrupted her.

Violet turned her head at the sound to see the tall, short-haired girl standing up behind her desk. "It's not that easy," she snapped. "Duties? What are you even talking about?!" Before Violet could respond, the Doll spoke up in her behalf.

"Iris," the Doll scolded. "That's enough; get back to work." Iris groaned, all but throwing herself back into her chair. "Fine." Then the door to the room they were standing in opened, and Violet saw the same girl from before that had been watching her enter the room. That caught the attention of the first Doll.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "That reminds me; I haven't introduced the other Dolls to you yet! You see, 'Doll' refers—"

"It's an abbreviation for 'Auto-Memory Doll'," Violet replied, cutting her off. "I figured it out earlier." The Doll smiled and nodded. "Right again! The girl just now, her name is Iris," she said, gesturing to the girl who had just snapped at them. Iris gave a slight, halfhearted wave in response, before turning back to her typewriter. "She's a new hire who just completed her training course. And that's Erica," the Doll explained, turning to glance at the girl wearing glasses. Erica tensed, pushing the glasses further up on her nose. "She and I have both been working as Dolls for a while. And I'm Cattleya," she concluded, still sounding as lighthearted as ever. "You'll meet the others soon. This company is still pretty young, so we're all kind of like rookies here."

Erica, who was walking past Violet at that moment, murmured, "That's not exactly true." Then she went over to her desk without another word. Violet turned her head, following Erica's path with her eyes, but Cattleya stepped forward and grabbed her attention before she could ask anything. "Violet," Cattleya beckoned, setting a hand on her waist, "do you know how to use a typewriter, by any chance?"

"I've never used one before," Violet admitted. This did not deter Cattleya one bit. "Then why don't you start off by practicing typing?" Violet nodded, and Cattleya called out over her shoulder. "Iris? Can we borrow your manual?"

Iris sighed. "Yeah!" Cattleya, in turn, motioned to the table they were standing next to, where a typewriter rested on top. "So, uh… sit down," she said, giving Violet an encouraging smile. On instinct, Violet saluted. "Understood, ma'am!"

Cattleya sat down beside Violet. Her eyes widened at the sight of Violet's hands—which sat neatly on her lap—and she added, "It's better to take off your gloves." Violet nodded and raised one hand to her mouth, removing the first glove with her teeth. She heard slight collective gasps from all three girls as she removed the second one. "Are you okay?" Cattleya asked softly. Violet simply replied that it wasn't a problem. Then, Iris handed over her typing manual to Cattleya, and set to work training Violet to type.

Part of the way through, Violet began typing so quickly that Cattleya had to tell her to stop and work more quietly, but otherwise, she showed herself to be a fast learner.

Which was what Cattleya told Hodgins when they met up in a hallway and he asked about Violet. "I invited her to lunch, but she said she felt a little sick and didn't want to eat. So she's been practicing her typing the whole time."

Hodgins sighed. "I see. Sorry to give you trouble." Cattleya said nothing more on the matter, and instead opted to shift the subject by way of flirting. However, unlike before, Hodgins pushed her away and admitted he had other things on his mind, but that he'd take her out to eat another time.

That evening, Cattleya relieved Violet from her typing practice, and was altogether at a loss for words when she requested to take the typewriter up to her room. When Violet admitted that not only did she want to practice more, but she wanted to try writing a letter as well, Cattleya felt sorry for her and relented.

* * *

The next morning, Violet presented Hodgins with a letter and explained that she wanted it delivered. Hodgins was completely bewildered by her request, particularly when he read the name of the intended recipient. "This is addressed to Gilbert?" Violet gave a simple nod and replied, "Yes. I want to tell him that I've started a writing job and begun training. I want to report my current status. I need to inform him of the change in my health condition so he can decide when I can return to my post." She paused, eyes flickering downward to the floor. Then she looked back up at him. "I'm sure the major is still busy and is not able to see me yet. Isn't that right?"

Hodgins tensed up for a moment, letting out a slight cough. "…Yeah." Then he relaxed a bit, giving her the same encouraging smile he always did. "I understand. I'll send this for you." He briefly scanned the letter, then looked back up at her. "So, um… how are you feeling? Are your symptoms getting better?"

Violet nodded. "Yes, the nausea has almost stopped entirely. And the dizziness is not as frequent as it was before. However…" She trailed off, looking towards the floor again. "I've felt more movement. Only once, and it was very faint, but…" Violet sighed. "I'm not used to it." Hodgins nodded in understanding and let out a slight chuckle. "You'll get used to it, don't worry. It's only the baby moving around; it's perfectly normal," he reassured.

He cleared his throat. "By the way, how has the training been going?" Violet didn't hesitate at all before replying, "It's going well. There's no problem." Hodgins was quiet for a moment, then gave her a slight smile. "Well. I'm glad to hear it."

However, contrary to Violet's statement, there would be problems later on that afternoon. Some were rather minuscule, such as pointing out a perceived error in the letter the other Doll was writing and causing annoyance. But others, such as questioning the intentions of clients and making comments that were far too blunt for the situation, caused far more trouble than Hodgins had expected when he pulled Violet and Erica aside to speak to them privately.

"We've received several complaints from a few customers," he began calmly. Violet only regarded him with a blank expression, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "Was there a problem?"

"No," Hodgins replied, a little too quickly. Then he sighed. "Well… are you okay?" Violet nodded. "Yes, there's nothing wrong with my health." Hodgins tensed up again, the way he always seemed to whenever her health came up in conversation. "No, actually, I mean about working as a Doll."

Violet couldn't offer much of a response. "I'm training diligently," was all she said to him, and he cleared his throat and gave a stiff little nod. "I see."

"Um…" Erica's soft voice suddenly cut into the conversation, and Hodgins turned to face her as she spoke. "We don't have any more reservations today. We're going to work together to make the membership list for the Chamber of Commerce after this." Hodgins could scarcely form a coherent response to that, and he left the girls alone, feeling even more confused than he had been when he first walked in the door.

* * *

A day later, after an unexpected, difficult love letter request that Violet had taken it upon herself to write, the woman who had requested it returned to the office, both furious and in tears over the outcome. Violet's method of writing had been cold and detached, altogether unsuitable for the job that was asked of her. Cattleya in particular spoke to and comforted the woman, and once she had left, Cattleya asked Violet to come with her for tea, before she went to visit the recipient of Violet's letter.

The restaurant seemed to serve a second purpose as a greenhouse, judging by the glass roof and flowers blooming all along the walls and hanging in baskets from the ceiling. The floor was a polished gray stone that reflected the light fairly well and made the whole room feel warm and bursting with life. Violet had to admire some of the flowers as she and Cattleya took their seats. Cattleya ordered tea for the both of them, then attempted to cheer up a clearly dejected Violet, who'd kept her eyes on the floor ever since she'd sat down.

"It might have been too soon to give you such a hard job," Cattleya said kindly. In truth, she knew it was certainly too soon for Violet to be writing letters like that one, but she didn't want to sound too harsh. Violet still didn't meet her eyes even after Cattleya spoke those words. "I don't understand," Violet murmured, prompting Cattleya to straighten up and listen carefully.

"I wrote the letter incorporating her requests as much as I could," Violet went on, and for the first time Cattleya's heart went out to the poor girl. She only wanted to do a good job and probably had next to no idea how she could have handled it better. Cattleya sighed. "Words can be interpreted different ways." She turned to glance outside, watching the rain fall on the other side of the windows. "The words themselves don't tell the whole story. It's a weakness of humans," she lamented. "They constantly test others in order to confirm their own existence."

She turned back to face Violet, a small smile creeping onto her face. "It's a contradiction." Cattleya laughed a little. Then, after a brief silence in which Violet thought her words over, Cattleya added, "I'm going to go alone to visit him once we're done. I need to apologize. You don't mind walking back by yourself, do you, dear?"

Violet shook her head. "No, ma'am." Cattleya gave her a bright smile in return just as their tea was being served. She thanked the waitress, and then turned back to Violet as soon as the other girl had walked away. "Just be careful on your way back. And… you don't have to call me 'ma'am'. Especially not here. We're just two working girls sharing some tea."

"Oh," Violet said softly. "What would you like me to call you, then?" Cattleya chuckled. "Just Cattleya is fine. Ms. Baudelaire, if you insist on formalities at work. But if we aren't at work, just call me by my first name." Violet nodded to show she understood, then replied, "Thank you for the tea, Cattleya."

"You're welcome, Violet."

* * *

As Violet made her way back to the office, she stopped when walking over a bridge—though she paid no mind to the busy streets or the rushing water below. Her major was the only thing on her mind. She wanted to see him more than anything else in that moment. So much about being a Doll had proved to be far more confusing than she'd anticipated, and Violet knew that if Gilbert were there, he'd help her make sense of it. He'd always known what she needed to do.

Her hand formed a fist over her collar—the place where her brooch used to be. The only gift she'd ever been given. Before Hodgins' giving her the stuffed animals, that is. It survived the last three years of war, only to be lost after the fact. The one possession she had that the major had given her. Violet wanted nothing more than to see him again, and to have her brooch back.

She wanted to be able to talk to Gilbert again. It was hard for her to explain why, but something in her mind kept telling her that he needed to know about the baby. Ever since Hodgins had informed her that day in his office that she was pregnant, she'd spent all the time she had to herself reflecting on the things she already knew in an attempt to piece together how it had happened. Even though her understanding on how children were born was a bit limited, already she suspected that what she and Gilbert had done the night before the last battle had something to do with it. And she knew that all children—even orphans like herself—had a mother and father at some point. She was, of course, mother to the child within her. But if what had happened the night before the battle at Intense had anything to do with her being pregnant now, then…

That would mean the major was the father of the child. At least, her suspicions told her so. She definitely needed to tell him now, if only to find out whether she was right.

Violet was broken from the trance her thoughts had put her in when a military uniform flashed in the corner of her vision. She turned her head to the side and saw a soldier turning the street corner. Violet couldn't tell from a distance what color his eyes were, but he had the same thin build and black hair. Blind hope filled her in that moment, and she chased after the man.

"Major!" She called out. "Major Gilbert!" She ran out of breath right after she turned the corner, but the soldier had obviously heard her, for he turned his head to look back at her, and all the breath left her lungs when she realized the soldier was not her major—this man was much older and had small dark eyes. Violet was left to stare blankly ahead on the bridge, wondering exactly when she'd get to see her major again.

As she continued on her trek back to the post office, feeling numb and keeping her eyes on the stone street, Violet was suddenly pulled back into reality at the sound of a bicycle slamming to a stop beside her. The person seated on it was her former coworker, Benedict Blue, and he was eyeing her with worry. "Hey! What's wrong? You… alone?" Violet only gave him the faintest of nods, and he continued on, "You look down. Are you eating enough?"

"I've gotten enough nutrients," she replied. Benedict sighed, then pressed further. "Then… did you make a mistake at work?" When she did not reply, he took her silence as an answer and shrugged. "Come back to the delivery department."

Violet still refused to meet his eyes. "Doing deliveries is no good." Benedict let out a slight scoff. "Forget about working as a Doll. Isn't it better to just find another job anyway?" He sighed in answer to her silence, and conceded, "I'll help you work on it. Hodgins said he's not getting a salary this month. Maybe our company isn't doing too well," he mused. Then, without a goodbye, he kicked his bicycle back to life and went on his way.

* * *

Rain had started to pour by the time Violet made it back to the post office, and her blouse and skirt were completely soaked through from the water. The fabric felt cold and heavy against her skin, but she hardly noticed. All she could think about was her major and the unexpected difficulties she'd run into with her new writing job. Violet wasn't entirely sure how to describe what she was feeling, but it was harder to breathe than it had been before—almost as if something was crushing her lungs. She wanted to see Gilbert. Whenever she was around him, she never felt anything like that. Violet brought her arms close to her chest, hugging her body. Her eyes squeezed shut, and for a moment, she was able to recall being in his arms.

Violet remembered gentle hands moving up and down her frame, as well as slow, soft kisses being pressed to her face, her lips, her neck. The gentle but firm way he kept ahold of her as he kissed her, pulling her closer to his own body. It'd felt… good. There was no other way for her to describe it. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to feel that way again.

Suddenly, Erica burst out of the doors to the postal company, and Violet was jolted back into reality, having forgotten that she was simply standing out on the sidewalk in the rain. The downpour started to soak Erica's dress as well, but she didn't seem to care about the weather any more than Violet did. The girl looked even more pale than she usually did. Violet thought back to the events of the previous days, and something occurred to her.

"Can I ask you a question?" She inquired of Erica. The other girl, who before had been all but frozen where she stood, flinched noticeably as if taken by surprise. "Huh?"

When Violet spoke, she realized that her voice was trembling, and suspected it wasn't just because of the cold. "Am I fit to become an Auto-Memory Doll?" Erica was silent for a few moments before answering, and even as she replied, her voice was soft. She wouldn't look Violet in the eye, either. "I feel… that I'm not—"

"I wasn't asking about you." At that, Erica tensed up even more, biting her lip as if holding back words. Then she turned, finally leveling her gaze with Violet's own. Her voice was louder and more firm, as if she'd suddenly found courage. "No, you're not," she replied. "In fact, why did you want to do this job in the first place?" Her brown eyes had gone cold, and Violet found that she could not bring herself to look at Erica. Instead, her head tilted down towards the ground. A familiar ache resurfaced in her chest, one that kept coming back when people were harsh or otherwise lacked a certain warmth she'd grown accustomed to with her major.

Her hand went to the base of her collar, forming a fist over the place she used to keep the brooch pinned to her chest. Though still not looking at Erica, she found her voice again as she thought back to the last battle, those three words said to her by the major, whose meaning continued to elude her. "I just want to know… what 'I love you' means."

Erica blinked at her as if confused, and her expression relaxed a bit—she gave Violet something resembling a little smile. "Is that all?" Violet nodded without hesitation. "Yes, that's all. I understand that those words express a particular emotion. So why did the major… suddenly say those words to me? I want to know why."

She relaxed her hand, bringing it back down to her side and then folding both hands behind her back. "If I'm not suited for this job… I want to continue doing it; until I find the answer." Erica gasped for breath, seemingly at a loss for words, and Violet fought back a few unexpected tears threatening to prick her eyes.

Overhead, the sun burst from the clouds, and the rain began to die down. Erica let out a sigh and finally replied, "Come on, let's get inside. I'm soaked, and I'm sure you are too."

* * *

"There are towels in the locker room," Erica informed Violet once they were back inside, but Violet only kept pace behind her as they made their way back up to the writing department. A bit of water dripped from her clothes and hair, but just as it was when she stood outside in the downpour, Violet hardly noticed. The last time being cold had actually bothered her was the last time she'd had a fever. And even then she spent a few days hidden away to recover, and despite the illness being of no real concern, the major hardly left her bedside—even to sleep. They talked a lot in those days.

As Violet walked down the hallway leading to the room where she worked, with Erica in front of her, the pair caught wind of Iris' voice, echoing down the corridor. "In any case, I think working as a Doll is too hard for Violet." Erica froze for a moment, but they both kept walking. Erica only paused a little ways behind the main door, letting a seemingly unaware Violet walk ahead of her.

"This company is still new, but we get so many requests for Cattleya," Iris went on. "But if we get a bad reputation because of this, and just when things are about to take off… It's better to have Violet leave now." Erica, as shocked as she was by those words, didn't hear Hodgins telling Iris to give Violet more time as Erica ran in front of Violet and burst through the doors.

"Erica!" He exclaimed in shock, and his voice dropped to a softer tone when he saw who was behind her. "Oh… Violet? What happened to you two?" Erica ignored his question, dipping her head slightly. "I'm sorry." Then she shot up to her full height, hands clenching into fists. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we should make her leave the job!"

Violet almost gasped at those words. Erica's opinion earlier had been the complete opposite of what she was saying now, and got even more confusing as she went on. "You see, Violet is… very accurate and fast when she types. She can do tasks like making membership lists and writing addresses. Before long…" Erica paused for a moment, turning her head to look at Violet, who could only regard her with bewilderment. "After she learns a little bit more, I honestly believe that she's going to be very good at writing letters."

Erica folded her hands in front of her, bowing her head low to Hodgins in deference. "Please… don't make her quit her job." Violet still didn't understand why Erica was saying these things, when she had said very different things just a few minutes before. She had no idea what to say. Then, in a flash, she remembered what Cattleya had said to her. "It's a contradiction."

"Huh?" Erica replied. Violet didn't give her much time to wonder. "You said before that I'm not suited for this duty. It's a contradiction." Erica found that she could not answer her.

Thankfully, at that moment, Hodgins stepped in. "You're soaking wet, Violet," he said gently, walking up to her and setting a hand on her shoulder. He guided her out of the room, murmuring, "Come on, let's get you a towel so you can dry off before you catch a cold."

* * *

A day later, Violet sat down on the floor, Hodgins standing in front of her. She remained perfectly still as Cattleya tied one last ribbon into her hair. Violet had already changed into a different dress, one that Hodgins bought for her. It was white, with little stripes of color on both sides, and she wore a blue jacket over it. A different, taller pair of boots was on her feet, and Cattleya had just finished putting her hair into complicated braided buns behind her head. "I'm done!" She chirped at Hodgins. "How is this?"

Hodgins beckoned to Violet. "Let's see. Go ahead, Violet. Stand up." She did as he asked, drawing up to her full height. She stood on her toes, perfectly poised like a soldier, and Hodgins smiled approvingly. "Looks beautiful, Violet," he said warmly. "My taste isn't that bad after all. And it should fit better than the other outfit you had on." Violet, suddenly remembering the way her abdomen protruded slightly, glanced down at herself briefly and nodded—she couldn't see the curve of her belly at all, whereas it was somewhat obvious with the other outfit, at least since she'd first taken notice of it that night on the roof.

Then Hodgins moved towards her, reaching into his pocket for something. "Oh, and don't forget this." He placed a small box into the palm of her hand. "Sorry it took me so long." Violet considered the possibility that it might be what she'd been missing ever since the hospital, and her heart sped up at the thought. "You can open it," he murmured.

"All right, then," she said softly, carefully removing the lid from the box. A flash of glittering green greeted her eyes, and she let out a soft gasp. She'd recognize the object in her hand anywhere, the emerald stone a perfect echo of her major's eyes. "This is… this is the brooch that the major gave me!"

Hodgins nodded. "It was on the black market. Someone must have stolen it from your belongings." As he spoke, Violet took hold of the precious gem, placing it over her chest where she'd always kept it. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and when she opened them, she found Hodgins staring at her with a look she'd seen before on both the major's face and Hodgins' own. It was one of pain. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but Cattleya spoke up before he could find his voice.

"So then, Violet," she said cheerfully. "Do you want to attend one of the Doll training courses? They have short-term ones, too. Iris attended one a while ago." Iris, seemingly uncomfortable at being pointed out, stammered, "Yeah, but the teacher was really strict."

Cattleya remained unfazed by Iris' comment, still smiling at Violet. "I think it'll be good for you. There's probably one starting up in a week or so; how does that sound?" Violet didn't answer right away, only glanced down at the brooch that was now resting in the palm of her hand. And after a long silence, she finally nodded. "Okay."

* * *

When evening fell, Hodgins decided that he needed to have a drink. Cattleya was the only other person in the dimly lit bar with him, and she was behind the counter. Both of them were still in their work clothes, but their professional mannerisms had fallen by the wayside. Hodgins had always enjoyed her company, and she was more than happy to spend time alone with him. She'd poured him some liquor, and in her hand was a glass of red wine. Neither of them spoke for a long while, though the silence was not an uncomfortable one. They just simply could not think of anything to say.

Cattleya, however, was the one who finally broke it. "Violet's brooch. You bought that back, didn't you? That's why you're not getting any salary this month." Hodgins didn't answer her—he merely twirled the glass around in his fingers. "Thank you for the drink," he said absently. Cattleya was a little put out by him ignoring her question, but from the look on his face, she knew better than to push it. Instead she sipped from her drink, casually rearranging the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind her.

When she spoke again, her tone had changed entirely. "Well, I think what you did was very kind," Cattleya murmured, offering him a smile. Contrary to his usual manner, he didn't return it. He could only keep staring into his glass of whiskey. A sigh moved past his lips, and she gazed at him with concern. She'd never seen him like that. It wasn't exactly a reassuring sight. "Claudia, are you okay?"

Another heavy sigh. "You know how I feel about my first name," he replied, but there was no real irritation or firmness of any kind to his voice. He just sounded utterly exhausted. Cattleya, in turn, walked closer to him, setting down her glass on the counter so she could take hold of his free hand with both of her own. "Hey," she said gently. "It's alright. You can tell me anything. It'll stay right here in this room, between us. You know that."

Hodgins finally looked up at her, though he still didn't set down his drink. "Yes, I know. And I'm grateful for that. You're… the best company I've had in a long time." His head tilted down, and he finally rested the glass on the counter. He sighed again, eyes squeezing shut. He felt one of her hands leave his and go to the top of his head, fingers running along his hair. He made no move to stop her, but he spoke up after a moment. "I will admit that there's a lot on my mind, particularly about Violet. But it's nothing that can be helped, really. So I… don't want to burden you with it. It wouldn't be fair. I haven't even asked about what's going on with you lately."

Cattleya _tsk_ed in disapproval. "We all have problems, Claudia. But right now, I can see who in this room needs some help, and it isn't me. Problems don't get any easier to manage when you don't talk about them." Hodgins let out a groan, half out of frustration and half from sheer exhaustion. "I really hate it when you're right and I'm wrong."

She managed a brief chuckle. "I know. But, please… just tell me what's bothering you. If you don't want me to try and fix it, I won't. I'll just listen. That always helps, trust me." Hodgins moved away from her touch, sitting up to look at her. "You're right. But there are still some things I can't talk about. I'm just… so worried about Violet. Her life changed completely, and the one person who knew her best isn't here anymore. There's so much she doesn't know, and… I don't know how to help her."

Cattleya nodded, patting his hand sympathetically. "If you don't mind me asking, is the person that knew her best also that major she keeps talking about? Did you know him?"

Hodgins tensed significantly, but finally nodded after a long pause. "Gilbert. He was younger than I was, but we happened to be in the same class at the military academy. He's from the Bougainvillea family." Cattleya looked taken aback by that. "Oh. So he's one of _them_." Hodgins shook his head, knocking back a bit of his drink.

"No. Gilbert may have come from a rich family with titles and estates and wealthy socialite parties, but his life wasn't exactly easy. I think that's part of the reason why he was a man with real spirit and conviction, despite his wealth. Lot of other people at the academy saw him as just another pampered rich kid, but… he was a very kind person and a good friend. And I miss him very much." He sighed, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, and Cattleya gave him an inquiring look. "Claudia, is he…?" She trailed off, not wanting to say the word aloud.

Hodgins nodded sadly. "I'm afraid… he's not coming back. Officially, he's listed as missing in action because a body wasn't found, but… there were dog tags and blood." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sturdy silver chain with the identification tags attached. "I've kept them with me this whole time because… I don't know what else to do. My best friend is gone, and…" Hodgins' voice failed him for a moment, and Cattleya set a gentle hand on his shoulder. "God, what am I supposed to tell Violet? She's just waiting for him to come back. And then there's the matter of the—"

He cut himself off, mentally cursing himself for almost having said _the baby_ out loud. "Never mind." Cattleya, however, was not satisfied with this, and scrutinized his expression. "Claudia," she said firmly. "I know there's something else eating away at you. I can't stand seeing you like this. Whatever it is, I swear I won't repeat it, just… please, tell me what's bothering you."

Hodgins sighed, taking Cattleya's hand in his own. He pressed his lips lightly to the curve of her wrist and closed his eyes. "All right," he said after a pause, looking back at her. "But you don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Understand? Violet may tell people in the future, but you keep this between us." Cattleya nodded, and Hodgins, trusting her enough to keep the secret, kept speaking.

"Violet is pregnant."

Cattleya gasped. Hodgins felt her hand, still clasping onto his, tense up in shock. "Oh, my. How… how do you know?" He grimaced, adjusting his grip on her hand so that her fingers were entwined with his. It was a small comfort. "A nurse at the hospital where Violet was staying told me. She thought it would be best for someone Violet knew to break the news, since they thought she wouldn't understand what that meant. Turns out she knew more than I expected, though," he said, chuckling bitterly at the recollection of his conversation with her in his office. "Gilbert would have a heart attack."

"Were they, um… well…" Cattleya's cheeks went pink as she struggled to formulate her question, and Hodgins shrugged. "I'm not sure what happened, to be honest with you. At first, I feared the worst had happened—that someone had forced her. Gilbert wouldn't do that, obviously, but someone else might have. But after talking with Violet, and having some time to think about it…"

Another sigh. "According to something Violet said, Gilbert told her he loved her. Something very well could have happened between them. I don't really want to ask, though—how would I even ask something like that? It's not my place." He turned his head away from Cattleya, staring down into the empty glass. "The fact is, Gilbert may have died without ever knowing that he was going to be a father. And I think that has to be one of the cruelest things the universe has ever done."

Cattleya nodded. "I am so sorry about your friend." Hodgins let out a slight laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Don't feel sorry for me. I'll mourn, of course—I have mourned, I still am—but it's not the same. Feel sorry for Violet. Without him, if she decides to keep her child… she'll have to raise them on her own." A tear fell from his eye. "Why does this world have to be so cruel sometimes? Gilbert didn't deserve to die on a battlefield, and Violet doesn't deserve to face life without him." Cattleya pulled him close to her, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and a strangled sob escaped his lips.

"It'll be okay, Claudia," she whispered. "I promise." _Oh, Violet_, she thought. _You poor, poor girl._

* * *

Inside her attic bedroom, Violet laid on her side on the mattress, unable to do anything besides stare at the brooch. The emerald that matched his own eyes reminded her of the way he'd looked at her that night they'd laid together, her facing him in his bed. A small smile was on his face, and he kept running his fingers through her hair, trailing them down her shoulders and back. What was it that he'd said to her more than once that night?

_You're so beautiful._ It was said to her in a hoarse whisper, as his eyes flickered up and down her body—as though he was trying to commit it to memory. Violet remembered those eyes as she turned the brooch over in her fingers, watching the shadows dance and flicker across it. She pressed the stone against her lips, and it was cool and smooth. Like a kiss from the giver himself, even though his own lips had felt warm and soft. She had to grasp onto any reminder she had of him, to keep going until he came back.

_Gilbert_, she thought. It was almost a silent plea. _I think of you every night. And I have to wonder…_

_Do you ever think of me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please tell me I did OK with Hodgins and Cattleya in particular. They’re honestly two of my favorite characters, and I hope you guys like where I’m taking their relationship. Also, Hodgins is essentially being Violet’s dad. It was more of a thing in the novels, but I loved it so I’m doing it here too. Also, unlike in the novel, Hodgins does not know Gilbert is alive. I’ll explain it all in time. So. Leave feedback. Lol.


	3. Memories Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I am not dead! Now, fair warning: this chapter is a LONG BOI. Over 13k words, a new personal record. Still not sure how that happened. Also, I pull a lot from the novel here, though I do improvise due to the novel and anime having different timelines, and I also throw in a few things I made up myself. (Also shoutout to my friends for yelling encouragement at me as I was stuck.) Hope you like it!

Benedict could hardly believe what he was hearing from his boss. He stood across from Hodgins’ desk, doing his best to not start sputtering incoherently. Hodgins had asked small favors of him in the past, but it was nothing like what he was asking him to do now. Benedict knew that his relationship with Hodgins differed from that of the typical relationship between a superior and an employee, since he owed Hodgins for all but taking him in and arranging for him to have a job when the company was still in the process of getting started. While his boss had never said outright that Benedict owed him, Benedict had always felt indebted—before Hodgins, he’d been a nameless, amnesiac mercenary who didn’t count on living to see his 25th birthday. Now, that was only two years away, and he had a halfway decent standard of living, a good-natured rivalry with his boss, and a name—the surname “Blue” had been one of his own invention from his mercenary days, but the name “Benedict” had been given to him by Hodgins. He couldn’t help but consider Hodgins to be his closest friend, even if they got under each other’s skin fairly often. He was normally okay with doing things Hodgins asked of him, even if he complained initially—he couldn’t have anyone thinking he was subservient, after all. But this newest request blindsided him. Hodgins was a careful, rule-oriented professional, so this request, which was completely unconventional, did not seem like the sort of thing Hodgins would ask of Benedict—or anyone, for that matter.

Benedict supposed there was a first time for everything.

“So, you’re telling me,” Benedict got out, leaning over the desk with his right elbow propped up on the wood, “that you want me to follow Violet around like a lost puppy and babysit her? What’s gotten into you? She’s an adult!”

Hodgins let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, Benedict. Violet is… something of a special case. Almost like you were, once.” He paused, which gave Benedict a moment to wonder exactly what Hodgins meant by that. He’d heard from a few gossipy girls in reception and the writing department that she used to be a soldier in the army, despite her stature and age, and wondered if that had something to do with it. But his boss kept talking before he could ask. “There’s a lot about the, er… civilian way of life that she isn’t familiar with.”

Benedict could agree with Hodgins on that one, based on his brief time training her as a postman. The girl was altogether robotic in the way she spoke, acted, and carried out tasks assigned to her, much like a soldier. _Or a mercenary_, he thought, but shoved that away. He’d never acted like a machine to the severe degree that Violet had. Even so, maybe they were more alike than he’d previously thought—she looked a lot like him, too. That thought brought fragmented memories to the forefront of his mind, but he tamped those down.

“I’m just concerned about Violet,” Hodgins went on, absently toying with the buttons on his vest. “I want you to stay by her side for a while when she travels for work, just to make sure she doesn’t get lost or hurt or anything.” One hand left Hodgins’ vest and went up into his hair, twirling a loose strand between his fingers.

_He fidgets when he’s got something to hide_, Benedict mused. _It’s his tell. I should mess with him_. Benedict, in turn, let out a little chuckle, rolling his eyes. “Okay, President. I get it. She’s another charity case, but you’re worried about her because, unlike me, she lacks a complete understanding of how the normal world works. That sound right?” His boss nodded, but Benedict couldn’t miss the unmistakable way his other hand stopped fidgeting with the buttons on his vest and he instead started tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Hodgins really was hiding something.

“I don’t buy it,” Benedict quipped, smirking. “She’s a soldier. Why in God’s name would she need me as a bodyguard except for some other reason you don’t wanna tell me? You have a soft spot for her, don’t you?”

Hodgins sighed, clenching one hand into a fist atop the armrest. “Not in the way you’re thinking. A close friend of mine used to look out for her, but he’s… not able to do that anymore. He left Violet in my care, and I’m just trying to do everything I can to make sure nothing happens to her.” That, Benedict knew to be the truth—the hand resting on his chair had gone still. There was one other thing that remained hanging over them, however.

“Well, that _still_ doesn’t answer my question,” he shot back. “Why does she need extra protection? Is she sick or something?” Benedict already had his suspicions ever since that tension-filled dinner with his boss and Violet, when she casually spoke about nausea and dizziness, but he still wanted confirmation of it. Hodgins, however, wasn’t exactly being forthcoming.

He sighed in frustration and leaned forward on his desk, towards Benedict. “That is none of your business, alright? You don’t need to know, and don’t go asking Violet. She probably won’t want to tell you, anyway.” Benedict nodded, then smirked as another thought came to him, one that reminded him of something he’d witnessed the previous week.

“I bet Cattleya knows, doesn’t she?” Hodgins flinched at the question, fingers twitching visibly over the surface of his desk. _Gotcha_. It was enough to get a bit of laughter out of Benedict. “I saw you two in the hallway last week. Not exactly subtle. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he added quickly when he realized that Hodgins was giving him a look that was nothing short of murderous. “I just have to know. How long has that been going on?”

Hodgins shrugged. “A while.” Benedict almost raised an eyebrow in surprise—he hadn’t expected to get any straight answers out of his boss. “So are you going out with her, or—”

“Benedict!” Hodgins snapped. “That is _also_ none of your business, you understand? What happens between me and Cattleya stays between us. If you try to get her to tell you more about Violet, she’s not gonna budge; so I would save some time if I were you. Besides, even if she would tell you, it shouldn’t come from her. Or from me.” He sighed, suddenly looking very tired.

“Who should it come from, then?”

Hodgins slammed both his palms onto the desk, just in front of Benedict’s own arms. “From _Violet_, you idiot! Would you please just drop it? Besides, let’s not forget who’s in charge here. I’m your boss, so if I tell you to do something related to your job, you do it.” Hodgins relaxed a little, leaning farther back towards his chair. “This is the job I’m giving you for now. Keep an eye on Violet. You should go look for her anyway, the training course starts today and she can’t be late. This will be your opportunity for getting used to accompanying her on longer trips.” 

Benedict, having realized that he was not going to get anything else out of his boss, sighed and wiped his palms on his pants legs. “Okay, fine. I will go… babysit the new girl.” He spun on his heels and moved towards the door, pausing just in front of it. “Hey, Hodgins?”

“What?” Benedict could tell from his tone that Hodgins was distracted and probably looking at something else, so he turned his head and grinned. “You and Cattleya, is it like a hookup thing, or what?”

Hodgins was not at all pleased with his employee’s cheek. He glanced up from some paperwork and regarded Benedict with cold, annoyed blue-green eyes and snapped, “Get _out_ of my office, Blue.” Benedict took another step toward the door, then turned back to glance at Hodgins again. The wry grin was still on his face.

“So it’s not that either. Ok, thanks for the information; see ya!” Then he ran from Hodgins’ office before his boss could work out exactly what he’d said, laughing like a lunatic.

* * *

Benedict walked with Violet’s down a cobblestone path. They were following the map Hodgins had given her, to get Violet to the training school before class began. Wrought-iron gates that pointed to a low brick building half-covered in vines of ivy told Benedict that they’d come to the right place. Violet paused by the gate’s entrance, seemingly staring blankly at the structure ahead. Benedict, who had been a few paces behind her, closed the distance between them to stand at her side. “You okay, kid?”

Violet only nodded. There was no emotion on her face at all. “I am healthy, yes,” she replied, folding up the map and handing it to him. “Will you be waiting for me outside at the end of the day?”

Benedict nodded, then cleared his throat. He wanted to ask her more questions—a lot more—but there simply wasn’t any time for him to do so. That, and it would probably get back to Hodgins if he questioned her. Benedict still didn’t understand his boss’ strange fondness for Violet, and he doubted he ever would. But he knew one thing for sure—if he bothered Violet too much, the chances of Hodgins killing him went up.

So, instead, he gave her a brief, awkward pat on her shoulder and motioned with his other hand towards the building. “Yup, I will be right outside when class is dismissed. You should go on in; don’t wanna be late. Good luck.” Benedict tried his best to give her an encouraging smile as she walked by, but she didn’t seem to notice.

He watched her walk away until she disappeared into the building, then he slumped up against the gate and sighed. It was going to be a long, boring day.

Violet, meanwhile, walked into the classroom with no apprehension. As a soldier, she was used to entering strange buildings and acting like she knew them. And the school was small and quiet—a single room with rows of desks and chairs with a creaky wooden floor and a blackboard on the far wall. She quickly took a seat near the back of the room and composed herself silently, hardly bothering even to listen in on the other chattering girls in the rows in front of her. Violet knew she didn’t have much to gain from eavesdropping in a situation like this.

Then the door to the schoolroom creaked open again, and a sharp, clear voice called out, “Quiet!” Violet had already been silent herself, of course, but all other chatter in the room ceased instantaneously. The woman who had just issued that order had a voice like a soldier. The tone she had used reminded Violet of army officers. _Yet the major never spoke to me in that manner, despite his authority_, she thought.

Violet got a better look at the woman when she walked to the front of the room. Her teacher was a tall, mostly slim woman with broad shoulders and a harshly lined face with small, dark gray eyes. Her hair was black like coal and drawn into a tight bun behind her head, matching the color of her blouse and long, plain skirt. Funeral attire, as Gilbert had once said about a similarly-dressed stranger they passed in the street.

The teacher folded her hands in front of her, surveying the classroom as if she was analyzing each pupil. Silence still hung over the room until she spoke. “I would like to welcome all of you to the Auto-Memory Doll training school.” There was a very brief pause, and the woman opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the door swinging open again.

“I’m very sorry!” A young girl ran into the room, stopping in front of the teacher. She was no older than Violet herself, with long red hair similar to Hodgins’, and wide dark eyes. Her blouse was checkered red and white with long sleeves, and she had on a long tan skirt that almost went down to her feet. She’d been wearing a straw hat tied with a green ribbon when she first walked in, but she’d taken it off as soon as she spoke to the teacher.

“You will be marked absent on your second tardy,” the instructor replied to her, without so much as taking a breath. The girl bowed her head and replied with a quick “yes, ma’am”, then went to take her seat.

Violet didn’t move at all when the girl chose to take the seat next to Violet’s desk, but from the corner of her eye, saw the girl giving her a nervous glance. Violet, however, was too busy focusing on the instructor to pay her much mind.

The beginning of the class was fairly easy, as it focused on typing speed. When she requested that the instructor specify a speed, Violet was ordered to type two hundred characters per minute. She did so easily, removing her gloves and letting her fingers fly over the keys. She noticed, in particular, the red-haired girl watching her with interest.

When the class took a break to eat lunch, Violet sat at the end of one table with only her training manual on the table in front of her. The red-haired girl, who Violet had learned was named Luculia, sat off to one side at Violet’s left, eating some sort of sandwich. Violet’s stomach turned with what was undoubtedly a hunger pang, and she regretted not having brought anything to eat. Ordinarily, she didn’t get hungry often—a habit developed in the army. In the hospital, when her nausea was most intense, she ate even less than she usually did, and what little she did eat wasn’t always able to stay down long enough to be digested. Throwing up wasn’t a real concern of hers anymore, but she was usually a bit nauseous in midday. She hadn’t expected to feel as hungry as she did.

Luculia suddenly froze, her sandwich halfway to her mouth, and looked over at Violet. “You’re not eating anything?” Violet shook her head, trying to suppress the hollow feeling in her stomach. “I’ve been trained to keep my eating to a minimum during an important mission.” The other girl regarded her curiously for a moment, then held out a small basket in Violet’s direction. It contained another sandwich identical to the one Luculia was currently eating. “Would you like to have some of mine, then?”

In any other situation, Violet would have turned her down. But it was rather obvious that she was starving, and despite her training felt a desperate need to eat. So, with a tentative hand, she reached out and accepted what was offered to her. “Thank you, miss Luculia.”

At those words, the girl tensed again, regarding Violet with utter surprise. “You… remember me from my introduction?” And Violet nodded, replying, “I remember everyone’s.” Then she began eating, unable to suppress her appetite any longer.

As she always had done in the army, Violet finished the food offered to her fairly quickly, and Luculia chuckled in between bits of her own food. “You must’ve been hungry. I get that way sometimes, too.” She took another bite, swallowed. “You should bring a lunch tomorrow, in case you get really hungry again.”

“I suppose I should take my physical needs into account more than I used to,” Violet answered, turning her attention back to the manual. “They are different than what they were before.”

Unbeknownst to the Doll, Luculia kept scrutinizing Violet, wondering what she could have meant by that, and what sort of upbringing could possibly have conditioned her into hardly eating at all. It couldn’t have been good for her health.

Class was dismissed for the day later in the evening, after they had all been instructed and tested in the proper use of grammar and vocabulary in letter writing. There were whispers and even little shocked gasps when the instructor—whose name was Rodanthe—announced that the student with the highest scores was Violet Evergarden, though Violet herself could not understand the confusion. She had only done what was asked of her.

* * *

When Violet stepped outside the building, she immediately looked around for Benedict. Unlike he’d promised her that morning, he was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes scanned the courtyard, but found no sign of him, and she was about to go scouring the grounds for him when she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder.

Luculia was standing beside her, holding her hat in both hands with a flustered expression on her face. “Violet, come this way. A few of the girls found a man sleeping in the courtyard, and he says he knows you, but he won’t tell them anything else. They think he’s some kind of creep. Can you settle this?”

Violet nodded, already knowing that the man in question was probably Benedict. “Show me where they are, please.” Luculia nodded, turning to the left, towards the ivy-covered side of the building. There, three of the youngest girls had a man pinned to the brick wall—two restrained his arms while a third held back his legs to keep him from kicking. The man was, as Violet had expected, tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, and wearing those conspicuous heeled boots on his feet.

Benedict.

“Do you know him?” Luculia whispered to her, and before Violet could answer, Benedict shouted for her. “Violet, tell them to back off! These girls are crazy!” He tried to move one of his arms, but the girl tasked with restraining his left side kept him stubbornly pinned to the wall. He glared at her. “Damn it, how are you so strong?!”

“SHUT UP!” The girl shouted, and Violet decided to step forward. “He is no threat,” she said to all three of the girls. “He is my escort for this mission.”

They did not move, only gave her puzzled looks, until Luculia waved her hand towards them dismissively. “You heard her, she was waiting for him. Let him go.” The girls grumbled to themselves, but finally released Benedict from their grasp.

He groaned in discomfort, stretching out his stiff back, then glared down at the students. “Next time, maybe try listening to a guy before you hold him hostage.” They offered him no response, but a couple of them huffed as the trio stormed off. Benedict rolled his eyes, then glanced at Violet. “Yeesh. Little bit of a harsh punishment for falling asleep on the job. Anyway…” He stretched both his arms out, and Violet could hear the unmistakable popping of his shoulders. Benedict then gave Luculia a bit of a nod in acknowledgment. “Thanks. I was starting to get worried that they were gonna knock me out or something.”

Luculia smiled at him. “Well, as long as you don’t fall asleep out here again, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Benedict chuckled, then stepped over to Violet. “C’mon, kid. We better get back to the office before Hodgins wonders what’s become of us.”

Violet nodded, then turned to bow her head in Luculia’s direction. “I will see you tomorrow, miss Luculia.” The other girl grinned and nodded, then stopped to place her hat on her head. “Bye, Violet!” Then she ran ahead of them to the main path, making a beeline for the street.

Benedict extended one hand and waved towards her. “I’m Benedict, by the way!” He called out to Luculia as she ran. The redhead didn’t stop moving, but glanced over her shoulder. “See you, Benedict!”

Once she had disappeared down the street, Benedict turned his attention to Violet. He beckoned for her to follow him, and she did so without a word. They took a short trek down the sidewalk, until they reached the place where they had exited the trolley that morning. The pair jumped back in to the streetcar, and it was there that Benedict finally broke the silence.

“So. How did class go?” He leaned against the support pole, but kept his eyes on her. Violet turned to look at him and replied evenly, “It went well. I received full marks on all my tests.” Benedict raised an eyebrow at her, then smiled. He was quite fascinated by the enigma of a girl standing beside him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Smart, but robotic and lacking in a certain humanity that he could expect from other people. The contrast probably had to do with her lack of facial expressions.

Still, she had to be commended. Full marks on her first day of class was something of an achievement. “Well. Good job.” He ruffled a hand through his hair awkwardly, entirely unsure how to proceed in conversing with her. She only dipped her head to him a little and replied, “Thank you.” Benedict shrugged, muttering something to himself, and let out a heavy sigh.

“This was a weird day for me,” he quipped with a chuckle. “First the boss asks me to follow you around, then I spend the afternoon bored out of my skull, and finally, when I decide to rest my eyes for a bit, I’m attacked by a bunch of teenage girls!” He threw a hand up in irritation, punctuating his last sentence.

As expected, Violet’s facial expression did not change. However, her wide blue eyes blinked at him, as if she was thinking of something. After a long pause, she replied, “They presumed you to be a threat because of your proximity to the school, and the fact that they did not know you added to this. It… was not their fault for being cautious.”

“B-But they wouldn’t even—” he sputtered, then stopped himself after realizing she would not change her mind. Violet had not only the mannerisms of a soldier, but the mind of one as well. Violet was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Which reminded him of the reason he was with her in the first place. Hodgins refused to explain why or give anything resembling a reason, which left Benedict with a lot to rule out. The boss had told him to mind his own business, but Benedict saw no harm in a simple “yes” or “no” question or two. So, he wrung his hands nervously and asked, “Hey, um… you’re not dying or anything, are you?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I am perfectly healthy.” Then she grew silent once more, and Benedict anticipated the inevitable follow-up to such an out-of-place question—the “why”. Anyone else in their right mind would have asked that in a situation such as theirs. But the question never came, and Benedict only let out a sigh when he realized she was not going to comment further on the matter.

Oh, well. One less thing to worry about, he supposed.

* * *

Benedict, still feeling obligated despite the day’s annoyances, escorted Violet back up to the writing department. There they were promptly met with the sight of Iris and Erica, who were busy tidying their desks. “I have returned from my mission,” Violet announced to them, and Erica was the first to acknowledge her presence.

“So, how was school?” Erica began, seemingly unbothered by Violet’s choice of words. Then, as if on cue, Iris appeared from behind a desk partition. “I bet you got in trouble,” she remarked, grinning at Violet.

Benedict tried not to bristle at the mere sight of that woman. _Iris Cannary_. She’d always irritated him with her never-ending stubbornness and general hostility towards him, but it’d gotten even worse since Violet arrived. For whatever reason, Iris was not all that fond of the new hire, and while Benedict could understand some frustration with Violet’s manner, he had a feeling it went beyond that for Iris.

And something about that got under Benedict’s skin in a big way.

“No, she did not,” he snapped at Iris, giving her a hostile glare. Then he set a hand on Violet’s shoulder and gave her a half smile, before turning his attention back to the annoyance in front of him. “In fact, she did very well today. Isn’t that right, Violet?” Violet only nodded, and Iris growled in frustration.

“Oh, dear,” Erica said under her breath, and with impeccable timing, Iris’ temper exploded—another thing Benedict had never liked about her. “What are you getting all defensive for, asshole? Got your eye on her or something?” She rolled her eyes, not allowing him to respond as she went on, “Get a grip, Blue, you have no chance with anyone here.”

“Would you drop it?!” He snapped. “I just don’t like how you talk about her, that’s all! Can’t I stick up for someone every once in a while?” Benedict huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. His blue eyes radiated cold anger. “Just leave her alone, all right?”

“I was only teasing,” Iris snapped, and before Benedict could respond, Cattleya walked over from her own desk and exclaimed, “Would you two please keep it down? I have a lot of work to do, you know!” Benedict turned on Cattleya, about to fire back with a clever retort, when Hodgins walked into the room behind Violet.

He glanced around, first noticing Iris and Benedict—particularly the way the pair remained staring each other down, arms folded. Hodgins let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair at their behavior. “All right, what did you two do now?” Both opened their mouths to answer him, but he silenced them with a raised hand. “Don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know. Just knock it off.” Benedict grumbled to himself and Iris tossed her head in contempt, but no protests came past their lips.

Satisfied with that, Hodgins turned his gaze on Violet, offering her a warm smile. “Welcome back, Violet.” In answer, Violet held out a sheet of paper, which he quickly accepted.

“Instructor Rodanthe sent me home with today’s results,” she explained, and Hodgins nodded approvingly. “Let’s take a look, then,” he said, in a tone not unlike that of a father looking over his daughter’s homework. That thought made Benedict scoff a little inwardly—as much as he teased Hodgins for his age, he was hardly old enough to be Violet’s father. Despite this, though, he appeared to be treating her like a daughter in some small ways.

There was a slight pause in which he scrutinized the paper, then raised a brow at Violet. “Oh! You received excellent marks. Well done.” Erica and Cattleya both gave Violet pleased smiles, while Iris let out a little huff.

Benedict grinned smugly at Iris, setting a hand on Violet’s shoulder as he’d done before. “I told you, Iris. She did well.” Iris sputtered for a moment, then shot back, “Well, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still an asshole!”

“You’re the one with the problem!” Benedict turned away from Violet to face Iris head-on, clenching one hand into a fist. “You and your stupid—”

Hodgins cut him off mid-sentence, having had quite enough of Benedict and Iris’ arguing. “Hey! I told you both to knock it off! So just get over yourselves and go back to work!” Hodgins turned an especially sharp stare on Benedict. “That means you too, Benedict. Go back to the delivery department and sort out mail before we close for today.”

Benedict sneered, turning his nose up at Iris as he exited the room. Iris herself tossed her head up once more, before ducking back behind the partition to return to her work. Once they’d gone, Hodgins let out another frustrated sigh. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know what to do with them. Fighting like children, ever since Iris came to work here.”

Erica nodded, agreeing. “I’m really surprised you’re able to keep things running smoothly, what with how often they fight.”

Cattleya, who had been listening intently all the while, suddenly let out a little giggle. “Oh, their fights aren’t _real_ ones,” she said coyly, grinning at Hodgins. “You know how I know that?” Not giving him time to answer, she went on, “It’s because they’re not actually sworn enemies—they only think they dislike each other. But love and hate are two sides of the same coin, after all.”

“Hey!” Iris, who managed to catch a bit of what Cattleya had said, jumped from her chair. “Do _not_ start talking to me about love! I don’t know what you expect to happen, but I don’t even _like_ that stuck-up moron! At all! So shut it.” Then she slammed back down into her chair, typing more furiously than she had before.

Hodgins chuckled, shaking his head at Cattleya ruefully. “I know you’re a romantic, Cattleya, but their contempt for each other seems pretty real to me.” In answer, the Doll shrugged, smiling in a falsely innocent way. “It’s only a hunch, that’s all.”

Violet, who was admittedly not entirely sure what Cattleya was talking about, still found herself privately agreeing with Hodgins—Benedict and Iris seemed to have nothing but hostility for each other. Hostility and anger were emotions that even Violet understood, and those emotions seemed to radiate off of them when they spoke to each other.

* * *

As school continued, Violet did not fare as well as she had on the first day. She and Luculia were tasked with writing letters for each other one afternoon, which led to the first obstacle. Luculia wrote on Violet’s behalf for a report she wanted to send to Hodgins regarding her current status—though she omitted anything alluding to the baby. She remembered his instruction to keep it between them, and had every intention of heeding it—at least for the next few weeks at school. Hodgins had told her that keeping it a secret would only be temporary.

The trouble laid in the letter she wrote for Luculia. The girl had wanted to write to her parents, thanking them for everything they’d done for her. Violet listened as she spoke and wrote a letter to the best of her ability, but the instructor informed her that what she wrote was hardly a letter at all. Then they exchanged their envelopes, and class was dismissed shortly after.

Luculia took a walk with Violet that evening, a distracted Benedict lagging several feet behind them. The sinking sun washed the stone bridge they were standing on in a golden light, and for a moment Violet was able to recall the soft glow of candlelight, the night before the last battle—when she’d been alone with her major and before he’d put out the lantern, when their flesh was bared to each other and their skin reflecting the dim light in his room. He’d looked at her then, at her body and her eyes—his gaze lingered on her lips, lips he’d kissed just minutes before—with an expression she’d never seen on him or anyone else. His lips were parted slightly, and his breathing shallow and quick. One hand had reached out towards her, with hesitant, trembling fingers, up to her cheek. He was slow about actually touching her skin, giving her time to pull away if she so desired.

Only, she hadn’t. He’d already kissed her, held her, pulled her close enough to him that something had awakened in her, a sort of warmth that spread through her entire body, along with a hollow ache that almost felt like hunger—albeit of an entirely different sort than she was used to. The feeling only intensified when he came into contact with her skin again, and she leaned her head into his hand almost instinctively. 

_Major_, she’d whispered. Just that and nothing more. It was as familiar to her as his name, if not more so, and it had passed her lips without a second thought. He’d faltered, his hand stiffening at the sound of her voice. She’d noticed, asked if he was alright. He, in turn, tore his eyes away from her, letting out a sigh. _Don’t_, he’d said back. _Please don’t call me that. Not now_. Then he’d looked back at her before she could respond, something shifting in his emerald eyes. _You know my name. If you have to say something, then… use it._

“You just had an off-day today,” Luculia said suddenly, breaking Violet from her thoughts. Violet glanced over at her for a moment, then back down at the cobblestone. The soft gold light felt familiar to her in an unfamiliar world. “Except that this is not the first time someone has told me that,” Violet replied.

“Oh,” Luculia murmured. “I see.” Then she looked off into the distance, past Violet’s shoulder, and let out a little gasp. A smile crept onto her face. “I know!” She said brightly, glancing back at Violet, who finally met her gaze. Luculia stopped walking, and Violet got a few paces ahead of her, turning back when the girl spoke again. “I’ll show you the best view in the city! What do you say?”

Violet paused for a moment, and then nodded. “That would be alright.” Luculia let out a slight laugh, then grinned at Violet. She turned back to where Benedict was still dragging his feet a good distance behind them, and called out, “Benedict! We’re going somewhere! Hurry up!”

Then she ran ahead, beckoning for Violet to follow her, ignoring Benedict’s grumbling protests behind them.

* * *

The place Luculia guided them to was a bell tower, taller than any building Violet had been in since the war. The sun was still sinking below the horizon, but it hadn’t become dark yet—everything still appeared to be cast in a soft golden glow. It was still warm, as well.

“It’s here,” Luculia said cheerfully, opening the door at the base of the tower. “Be sure to watch your step.” Violet and Benedict followed her inside, up several flights of stairs. Near the top, Luculia removed her hat, and sunlight poured from the sky onto the faces of the three observers. The wind blew strongly up there, and what little bit of Violet’s hair that was loose swept across her face. There was a large bell hanging just above their heads, but none of them were in danger of hitting it.

Far off in the distance, the sun was clearly visible from the open space in the tower, slowly moving towards the ocean on the horizon. It stained every building and hill in sight with its gold hues, and the sky was painted in tones of orange and red and even a bit of green behind it. It was…

“Beautiful, right?” Luculia said, smiling back at Violet and Benedict. Then she turned her head back towards the open sky. “I’ve loved this view ever since I was a child. We used to come here all the time.” Benedict took a few steps forward, standing next to Luculia’s position by the window. “It’s… nice,” he said uncertainly. “You can see a lot from up here.”

He glanced back over at Violet, who remained where she stood, staring fixedly at the horizon. “What do you think, Violet?” Benedict asked her, but there was no response. “Violet?”

She hadn’t heard him at all. Her mind had taken her elsewhere, to a time during the war. She stood with her major on the edge of a battlefield, where rifles were planted in the soil with helmets perched atop them as a sort of memorial—the aftermath of a harsh battle. Her major had blood on his own hands and uniform and hair, but he was able to stand and look out at the lake before them, despite his exhaustion.

The sun had been setting at that time, just as it was in the bell tower, turning the expanse of water stretched out before them into a mass of liquid gold. The shadows cast by the trees stained the ground they were standing on an orange color, and when Gilbert turned back to look at her, there was something about the sea of gold light that made his green eyes especially striking. _Violet. I hope that one day, you’ll be able to see that beautiful view in Leiden_, he’d murmured. Then he reached out to her, motioning with one hand for her to come forward, and she’d stood obediently at his side. Back then, she was about eighteen and had just grown to her full height, though she still barely came up to his shoulder. He’d turned to glance at her, giving her a smile that only differed from what she was used to by the look in his eyes; an expression she could not name. Then he’d laughed, ever so slightly, more to himself than anyone else.

_On second thought, I do hope you get to see it, but… it’s not half as pretty as you look, standing here._

What had she said to him then?

She didn’t get to remember before the voice calling her name finally reached her ears. “Hey, Violet! VI!” Benedict’s shouting broke her from her trance, and she finally blinked at him, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Yes?” At her response, he sighed in relief and set a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, thank God,” he gasped out. “It was like you didn’t even hear us. Just about gave me a heart attack.”

Luculia was standing behind him, giving Violet a worried glance over Benedict’s shoulder, and she nodded. “Yeah, we thought you might faint. Are you okay, Violet?” She nodded, replying that she was fine, but that she’d like to leave the bell tower now. Both Luculia and Benedict agreed, and they escorted her down the stairs much more slowly than they had going up.

Night fell by the time Benedict and Violet parted ways with Luculia. They came to an impasse in the market square, and she motioned in the direction opposite to where Violet and Benedict needed to go. “Well, I’m going this way. See you tomorrow,” she said cheerfully. Benedict nodded, smiling. “It was nice meeting you properly.”

She laughed a little, a hint of pink tinging her cheeks. “See ya.” Then she turned and started to walk away. Luculia was, however, stopped in her tracks at the sound of Violet’s voice. “Miss Luculia,” she said formally, and the girl turned around, smiling at her. “You can just call me Luculia, ‘kay?”

Then, before Violet could say anything else, Luculia was distracted by another voice, off in the distance. The owner was slurring his words, making it harder for Violet to hear what was being said. Benedict tried to ask if Luculia needed help, but she ran in the other direction before he could even finish his sentence.

Violet trailed after her, and for once Benedict did not protest to her wandering. He followed silently, in time to see Luculia kneeling down to help another man, who from the looks of it, had just fallen. He was glaring at Luculia, who appeared frozen where she stood. He had the same red hair as the other girl, Violet noticed. Not far away from the pair was a discarded wooden crutch that Violet knew belonged to the man on the ground. So she bent down and quickly picked it up, holding it out to her classmate. “Luculia.”

Luculia turned around, giving Violet a small smile. “It’s okay, I don’t need help. But thank you.” Then Benedict came up to Violet, setting a hand on her shoulder and telling her that they’d better get back, and she was left with no other choice than to listen to him.

* * *

Just as they had the day before, Violet and Benedict made sparse, awkward conversation as they took the rest of the trip back to the company. At least, it was awkward for Benedict, who had to be ready for any sort of question. That he’d already figured out about Violet—she asked strange, abrupt questions. It almost reminded him of a child at times, though he supposed he couldn’t fault her for not knowing things. Hell, he used to be just about as clueless himself—no name, hardly any memory, no skills other than doing people’s dirty work to pay for some drinks and his next few meals. They weren’t that different. Even so, it didn’t stop her next abrupt question from completely blindsiding him.

“Benedict,” she’d said, in that perfectly even tone of hers, “am I… pretty?”

Even Violet, strange as she was, had been, in his mind, the last person to ask him that sort of question. She didn’t seem to take much of an interest in her appearance before, he thought. She wore the same blouse and plain skirt and no makeup and kept her hair in a simple ponytail, until Hodgins bought her her uniform and had Cattleya style her hair. And, either way, what was he supposed to say?

“Uh, well… that’s kind of a subjective question, but… yeah. Yeah.” He nodded. “Everybody’s gonna have a different opinion, but you look nice. It’s a pretty dress, too.” _Why me_, he thought to himself. _This is, without a doubt, the strangest assignment I’ve ever been given—and that includes the days when I was a mercenary._ Even so, he gave her a faint smile. “You’re really pretty, Violet.”

Violet only gave him a terse nod in response, leaving him even more confused. “Uh… why do you ask?”

She looked away, and even though her facial expression didn’t change, Benedict saw the slightest shift in her blue eyes. And in that moment, he realized her eyes were the exact same shade as his. It really was strange, all the ways they were alike. One hand went to her chest, fingers clasping around her emerald brooch. “The major once told me so. I… wondered if you thought the same.”

After that revelation, Violet said nothing more on the matter, and Benedict didn’t press further. He would have if it was something else, but now he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. Granted, he was curious about certain things that went through her head, but didn’t need—or want—to know every detail.

Some things were best kept to oneself, that he knew.

* * *

Before long, the training program was over—it only lasted for about three weeks, after all. There hadn’t been any incidents involving Benedict since the first day, though Luculia sometimes sought him out for conversation. Violet herself didn’t talk to Benedict much. And despite her efforts, her letter writing did not get much better. On the last day, when the instructor called out the names of nine graduates, Violet’s was not among them. She’d asked Hodgins before, the night she came back after the instructor had called what she’d written “hardly a letter”, if she would be able to be an admirable Doll, and he’d only told her to try her best. She thought she had, but it seemed her best was… not enough.

It felt like a physical blow.

When Violet informed Hodgins that she had not graduated, he only let out a soft sigh at her words. The fingers on his left hand tapped restlessly in a broken rhythm over the surface of his desk for a minute, then he leaned back a little in his office chair. “I see. It’s unfortunate.” Violet, in turn, bowed her head a little. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Hodgins smiled. “Oh, it’s all right. Not graduating doesn’t really mean you can’t become a Doll.” Violet’s hands clenched into fists in front of her, though she still did not move. “Then, what was the point of going to that school? While it is true that graduating is not everything, if I am unable to understand the feelings people wish to communicate in their letters, then there is no point in being a Doll.”

Hodgins got up from his seat, sighing as he ran one hand through his hair. Slowly, he walked around the desk, until he was standing directly across from her. “It’s all right, Violet,” he murmured, that gentle smile returning to his face. For an instant, Violet was reminded of Gilbert. He would often smile at her the way Hodgins was doing now. Then Hodgins picked up the stuffed rabbit sitting on his desk—one of the three stuffed animals he’d offered for her to choose from, the day he brought her back from the hospital. The third, a small black cat, remained in its place. He turned the rabbit over in his fingers, clearly thinking about something.

“Don’t worry yourself too much,” he finally said after a long pause. “Keep trying. Eventually, you’ll figure it out.”

* * *

The following day, when she had no work to do, Violet headed back to the training school. It was empty now, of course, but something had drawn her back to the building. As she carefully climbed the stairs to the classroom, she felt that fluttering in her abdomen again. It had become more and more frequent as the weeks went on, continually reminding Violet of the life growing within her. Even though her hands were incapable of feeling anything, she still found herself placing at least one hand on her abdomen every time she felt something—and this occasion was no exception.

Once she reached the top of the stairs, Violet glanced down at herself, setting her left hand over where she’d felt the baby move. It was still confusing and foreign to her, despite knowing what caused the feeling—and she wondered if she’d ever really grow accustomed to the sensation.

Then, a startlingly familiar voice broke her from her trance. “I knew you would come here—Violet? Are you all right?” Violet looked up, and saw that she was standing across from her old classmate. So she walked further into the room, looking the other girl directly in the eye. “Luculia. Why are you here? The program is over now.”

“Because I knew you’d be here, and I wanted to talk to you,” Luculia replied, smiling at Violet. After a moment, though, the smile dropped, and her brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seemed a bit distracted when you walked in.”

Violet nodded. “I’m fine.” Luculia opened her mouth as if to say something else, but seemingly decided against it, in favor of walking towards the wall she was closest to, where a cabinet containing several typewriters stood. Violet watched as Luculia carefully took one from its place, turned back, and smiled. “Tell me, Violet… who is the major?”

The question froze Violet where she stood, but Luculia did not give her time to respond. “When you write your letters, you always end them by asking about the major. So I was thinking, isn’t he really the one you want to send a letter to?”

Luculia took the typewriter to a nearby vacant desk, sitting down in a chair in front of it once she’d positioned the machine. “Why don’t we write a letter to him today? You know, not like your usual reports, but a letter that actually shows what your feelings are.”

_My… feelings?_

What, exactly, did she feel for her major? _Gilbert_, as he’d asked her to call him during that final night they were in each other’s company. She’d never thought about it before, apart from a desire to see him again. And to tell him about the baby. He’d know what to do about it.

But other than that, Violet was at a loss. It was not that she was incapable of feelings—time and again she’d felt things, varying in intensity and the length of time. She felt, just like anyone else did. The only difference was, she had no name to put to whatever she felt—both for Gilbert, and for other people or things in her life. It made things a lot more difficult.

“I won’t leave until we’re done,” Luculia said, still wearing that smile on her face. Violet lowered herself into the chair across from her, but still remained silent for a long while. And when she finally spoke, she was only able to utter one word. “Major…”

_Gilbert_, she thought once more. _You asked me to use your name. _

“I’m sorry,” Violet got out. “You see, the reality is that… I have no idea what I want to say to him.” Even where her pregnancy was concerned, she was still unsure of how to go about telling him—if he’d gotten her letter informing him about the change in her health, he would already know about it, but she was unsure of how to make her questions known to him, regarding whether he was the father of the child. And Luculia did not need to know about the baby. “Because I don’t even understand the meaning of the words he gave me.”

_I love you_, said to her twice—though only once was it really meant for her ears. She wanted more than anything, aside from seeing him again, to learn what it meant to love someone. Did it have anything to do with the way he’d kissed her, or later laid her down on his bed? What she felt that night was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and even though she had wanted it, Violet still did not understand what those feelings were. “I am confused,” she concluded.

Luculia regarded her silently for a moment, thinking. Then, she asked, “Violet… why did you want to become a Doll?” Violet sighed, staring down at the wood desk. “Because I… I want to know what ‘I love you’ means.”

“What does it mean? I see.” Luculia relaxed a bit, giving Violet the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s hard for you to communicate your feelings, isn’t it?” Then she sighed. One hand toyed with her long red hair, pushing it back behind her shoulder. “To tell you the truth, my parents have… passed away. All I have left is my brother Spencer.”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk, and her eyes shut. “In all honesty, I often don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to him.” When Luculia blinked her eyes open again, they were glassy, brimming with unshed tears. “During the war, my brother went off to fight as a soldier in the army, but there wasn’t much fighting on the western front. That’s where he was deployed. The real conflicts always seemed to be happening somewhere else. The war just didn’t feel real to us. But…”

For a moment, Luculia’s voice failed her, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “One day, when my parents went to Herne for business, the western front was broken. They looked all over for my parents… but couldn’t find any trace of them.” A few more tears fell, and Luculia dropped her head towards the floor. All Violet could do was watch her, without the slightest idea of how to respond.

“And then the war ended,” Luculia went on. “My brother came home alive. I wanted to be happy that at least he had made it. But my brother was angry that he wasn’t able to protect Herne. Angry that he wasn’t there for our parents. He blames himself for their deaths.” She looked back up at Violet, clearly struggling against the few tears that did fall. “I was just… I was just happy that he was alive.”

Finally, Luculia stopped fighting, and her voice faded into sobs. Tears rolled down her face in a steady stream, and her knuckles had gone white from clenching her hands into fists. “I just want to tell him ‘thank you’,” she sobbed. “But… I can’t.”

And in that moment, Violet understood. The purpose of a Doll was not just to send messages for others. It was to convey the feelings people could not put into words for themselves. Cattleya had said it herself before: the words themselves don’t tell the whole story. Her only obstacle was figuring out how to do so.

But, in Luculia’s case, she had already told Violet exactly what she wanted to say to her brother. All Violet had to do was write it down. Her own hands clenched into fists, gripping the fabric of her dress as she found a new resolve.

“Luculia,” she finally said. “Let’s write a letter to your brother. We’ll put all of your feelings into that letter. Say what you want.”

Luculia’s sobs grew quiet, and she wiped away her tears, looking back at Violet. “Yeah, but… whenever I think about telling him how I feel, nothing comes out. I’ve tried so many times in the past, but it’s no use. I’m sure I never will,” she sighed. “Thank you, Violet.”

Then, she jumped up from her chair as fast as she could. “We’ll write your letter to the major another time.” Luculia took a few steps to the left, grabbing her hat, and then ran out of the school nearly as fast as she had burst in on that first day.

Once she’d gone, Violet knew what was left for her to do. The typewriter still lay on the desk, undisturbed, ready to be used. She raised one gloved hand towards her mouth, intending to pull it off that way, but hesitated at the last moment. Instead, she used her other hand to remove the glove, all the while keeping her eyes on the typewriter in front of her.

_An admirable Doll can find the true feelings a client wants to communicate with their words._

* * *

Violet found Spencer Marlborough outside the bell tower that Luculia had taken her to. He was sprawled out on his back near the doorstep, his crutch laying flat beside him. One look at the cuts and bruises on his face and arms told Violet that he had recently been in a fight. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut.

Just as Violet knelt down at his side, he grabbed hold of his crutch and swung it at her, slamming it onto her forearm, and the metal effectively stopped the blow. She did not feel anything at all, aside from a bit of pressure on the area where the prosthetic attached to what was left of the flesh.

The expression on his face had been one of anger, but it melted away when he got a good look at her face. “Wait, you… you’re Luculia’s friend.” In reply, Violet wordlessly handed over the letter she had written on Luculia’s behalf, and Spencer looked up at her in confusion. “What’s this?”

“A mission. No, an assignment,” Violet replied. Then she thought for another moment, and sighed. “No, it’s a letter. It is from Luculia to you.”

Nothing changed about his expression, but Spencer glanced down at the address typed onto the envelope. “From Luculia?” He took the envelope before she could answer, opening it right then and there. Violet, fully aware of how dark it was, held out her lantern close to the paper, letting him see the words on it.

One look was enough to elicit a shocked gasp from him. And as he read the message aloud, his voice faltered, eventually giving way to sobs. By the time he got to the last words on the page, tears were falling from his eyes, dripping onto the paper.

_To my brother, _

_I’m happy. I’m happy that you are alive. _

_Thank you. _

_Luculia Marlborough_

He could offer no words to Violet, as his voice was lost entirely from weeping. All Violet could do was remain there, in the dark, holding onto her lantern. She did not get up until he had recovered, ready to get to his feet himself. Then, still looking like he was close to tears, Spencer folded up the letter and tucked it away into his pocket, giving Violet a slight nod. She stood there on the sidewalk as he turned and walked away, finally realizing that saying the right words could help a person. He’d given her a nod and just a hint of a smile, despite the state he was in.

It was not a “thank you”. But it was enough.

* * *

When Violet returned to the post office, she was met with the sight of Cattleya and Benedict drinking tea at the small table in the writing department. Cattleya greeted her with a cheerful smile, whereas Benedict appeared half-asleep and was leaning against the bench he was sitting on, yawning.

“Welcome back,” Cattleya said brightly. “Where were you out so late?” Benedict nodded, letting out another yawn. “You should’ve given me a heads-up; boss’ orders are for me to escort you.”

“I only went to the school,” Violet replied. “Where is the President right now?”

Benedict shrugged, setting down his cup of tea as he turned to get a better look at her. “I think that he had a Guild meeting tonight,” he replied, grinning at Cattleya. “Cattleya misses him.” The aforementioned woman gave him a very sharp look, which only served to make Benedict laugh.

Then he frowned at Violet. “Hold on a second. Aren’t you already done with the school?”

“Yes,” she answered. “But I wrote a letter today for someone from my school. Although I’m… not sure if the feelings were able to come across.” As she said this, her hands closed into fists at her sides, and Cattleya gave her a soft smile. “Oh, I see.”

Violet nodded. “I wrote a letter on behalf of Luculia for her older brother Spencer. She intended to express gratitude to him. And I hope I was able to convey it.” Benedict sighed and gave her a bit of an encouraging smile, before slowly getting to his feet.

“I’m sure you did,” he said to Violet, before turning to glance at Cattleya. “Anyway, I better get home. It’s late. Thanks for the tea.” Benedict tilted his head down at Cattleya ever so slightly, who smiled back, and then turned to leave.

Cattleya made quick work of engaging Violet in conversation, and so neither of them saw the odd look Benedict was giving Violet as he lingered in the doorway. Something was gnawing at his mind.

* * *

That night, Violet dreamed. It was different from the usual ones she’d had ever since the war ended or a little before that—those dreams always revolved around the battlefields or her major. But it was not entirely foreign to her, as the kind of dream was one she often had in the earliest days of her memory, not long after the major’s brother brought her to Gilbert.

Though she sometimes wondered if it was not a dream, but rather a memory, locked away inside her mind. It felt so different than any of the other dreams she was used to, and it was the same every time it played in her head. All her other dreams she never saw twice. Of course, she could never remember the dream in her waking hours, but every time her mind pulled her back in, there was a sense of relief, of familiarity, the innate knowledge that she had seen it all before.

It started the way it always did. Her, looking through the eyes of a much younger girl. There was thunder and pouring rain, and she was running on a street made of cold, slick cobblestone. Her hands were not metal in the dream—they were real flesh and blood, just as they had been before the end of the war. One hand was clasped in the hand of an older boy, at least older than the girl whose eyes Violet saw through in her dream—no older than twelve or thirteen, probably. He was running too, pulling her along.

He kept looking back over his shoulder, and he looked just as Violet expected him to—pale face, blond hair drenched from the downpour, and startlingly blue eyes that looked just like hers. Then he slipped on a stone, and his arm yanked her forward, sending them both to the ground. The little girl got up onto her knees and began to cry, and the boy grabbed both of her shoulders.

_Don’t cry,_ he pleaded. _Please don’t cry. We’ll be there soon, and then you can cry as much as you want. But for now, we have to run._ There was a nod, and then he helped her to her feet. _Come on, sis,_ he said softly. _We gotta make it._

_Sis_. In the past, Violet had not understood the meaning of that moniker, but she understood it now. An abbreviation of the word “sister”, meaning that the boy in her dream was the brother of that little girl. Violet could never figure out whether the girl in the dream was her, though if it was indeed a memory like she had wondered, then that would mean that as a child, she’d had an older brother. He certainly looked like her, and she knew that siblings typically resembled one another in some way.

Then the dream shifted just as it always did. They were standing out on a pier by the ocean, with a small sailboat before them. _Quick_, the boy said. _Get in. We can escape in this._ And in the distance, there were shouts from men whose voices she did not recognize, barking dogs, and even a warning shot from a rifle as the boy untied the boat from its dock.

The boy flinched at the gunshot, then pulled something from his pocket. A dagger, glinting silver under the light of the moon. He handed it to the girl, closing her small fist around it. She said something that might have been his name, but whatever that name was, Violet still hadn’t been able to decipher. A demand came from the girl’s lips. _What are you doing? _

He reached into his pocket again, revealing to her a small silver pistol. _It’s not much, but it’ll buy you time. I’m going to get out of here, then I’ll come find you. Understand?_

The girl wailed, once again saying the name that Violet’s mind seemed determined to keep hidden from her. The boy only smiled. _You have to stay strong, sis,_ he whispered. The shouts drew closer. _Promise me that you’ll fight. Fight like your life depends on it. Kill, if you have to. Do whatever it takes to survive. We’re stronger than they are._

_No! I won’t leave you!_

_You have to_. Something glassy dripped from both his eyes and down his cheeks, and Violet did not know whether it was tears or rain. _Just for a little while. You have to leave me to survive. But I promise you that I’ll come back. Your brother will _always_ come back. And even if we forget everything else, we’ll find each other again. I swear it._

_But what if we forget each other?_ She pleaded, and he shook his head, smiling despite another warning shot.

_Then we will still find each other, even if it takes longer,_ he replied. _We will always be stronger than they are, and that will be enough for us to remember one day. I am stronger than they are, and you are stronger than they are._

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then began loading bullets into the pistol chamber. _Remember this, even if you forget your own name. We are strong and we will survive. _You_ will survive, Briar._

_Briar_. Violet knew that name. She’d heard it before in the dream, but it always slipped from her grasp when she woke. Still, she could not shake the idea that the name was a part of her past, somehow. She could have known a young girl named Briar, perhaps. She could have heard it anywhere, really.

It could have been her own name. Though, to her, her name would always be Violet. Whoever Briar was, that would never be Violet.

_Briar_. The boy said her name once more.

_Violet_.

That wasn’t the boy’s voice. The dream wasn’t supposed to end this way. That was a familiar voice, one Violet knew from her waking hours.

“Violet!”

_Benedict?_

Slowly, Violet blinked open her eyes. Identical blue ones were staring into her own, and Benedict was indeed leaning over her, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “You were thrashing around and talking in your sleep when I came in, and I got freaked out.” 

He moved back enough to allow her adequate space to sit up, and she regarded him with curious, tired eyes as she did so. “What are you doing here in my room?”

Benedict sighed, letting out a strange laugh. Both hands went to his pockets. “Shit, right. Um. I wanted to talk to you before work. If that’s okay.”

Violet nodded, grabbing a hair ribbon from the table beside her bed, tying her hair back behind her in a ponytail to give herself more freedom of movement. “That would be all right. What did you want to talk about?”

Another sigh, one hand going up to fiddle with his hair again. “Well. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you seem like the kind of person who would keep a secret. And given everything that’s happened the last few weeks, I think you’re the only one I’d trust to keep this secret.”

Not giving her time to respond, he went on, “I have amnesia. I can’t remember a single thing from before I was… I dunno. Already an adult, I think. I remember the war. Practically nothing before it.” Then he groaned. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m—it’s just that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. After all that shit with Luculia and her brother.” He leaned against the wall, pressing one hand against his forehead.

Violet finally rose from the bed, sitting on the edge of it. “We have that in common,” she replied, looking straight at him. “I cannot remember anything from before… before the major’s brother found me.” Benedict only stared blankly, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “I don’t even remember the name my parents gave me. The major gave me the name Violet.”

Benedict chuckled, and she blinked at him in confusion—she didn’t think anything about their shared situation was particularly amusing. “That’s something else that we’ve got in common. Hodgins named me Benedict, not too long after we met. I can’t remember my birth name either.” Then he sighed, absently scratching the back of his neck. “So… you really don’t remember anything? At all?”

Violet shook her head, and in return, he offered a grimace. “In that respect, you’re lucky. You don’t have to be attached to anything from your past. But in my case…”

Benedict walked closer to her, sitting down beside her on the mattress. “I know only one thing about whoever I was before: I know for sure that I had a little sister. I don’t know how I know that or where we were from or what she looked like or if she was even related to me by blood, but I know I had someone in my life that I called my little sister.” Then he sighed. “I’m just hoping that when I do see her again, I’ll know her. Maybe she’s forgotten me, or she might even be dead, but… I haven’t given up yet.”

He offered Violet the tiniest of smiles. “Anyway, my point is, what you did to help Luculia reconcile with her brother… that’s a noble thing. People should appreciate their siblings. After all, you never know how or when you might lose your brother or sister. I know that, and I hope her brother realizes that.” Benedict set a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “You did good, Vi. Understand?”

Violet nodded, and he grinned. “Good. By the way, I think I’m gonna call you ‘Vi’ from now on. Short for Violet. Do you mind?” She shook her head, and he patted her shoulder a bit. “Cool. ‘Vi’ it is, then.”

Then they both heard another voice, yelling from the bottom of the stairs—Hodgins, ordering Benedict to hurry up and leave Violet alone so he could get to work. It got a laugh out of Benedict. “Okay, Vi, I’m gonna go get to work. Good luck with your job.”

He got up from the bed, and as he turned to leave, Violet got another glimpse at his eyes—a very clear, deep blue, and as always, identical to hers. It was there in that attic when, for the first time, Violet remembered she’d dreamed the night before.

And all she could remember from her dream was a pair of blue eyes.

* * *

Later that morning, Violet was busy cleaning the glass on the front windows when the doors burst open, revealing Luculia, who looked as if she’d ran all the way to the postal company. “Violet!” She sounded breathless when she spoke, but it did not stop her. “I was—”

“Luculia,” Violet greeted her. “Is something wrong?” The girl only laughed and, not offering much of an explanation, took Violet by the hand and told her to come along with her, stating that she had something to do for Violet.

Therefore, Violet was rather surprised when Luculia brought her inside the school and found their instructor, Rodanthe, already standing in the center of the classroom. “Good morning to you, Violet,” she said.

“Instructor. Is school not finished?” Violet asked, and Luculia gave their instructor a smile. Her cheeks had gone bright pink from exertion—she’d practically ran the whole time as they headed to catch a trolley. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who asked her here,” Luculia explained.

Rodanthe looked down at a piece of paper she was holding in one hand. “Luculia has decided to show me this letter. The letter you wrote on behalf of Luculia for her brother.”

Luculia nodded, glancing at Violet. She was still smiling. “You see, the things I’d been wanting to tell my brother… Violet, you were able to tell him for me.”

Before Violet could fully understand what was happening, Rodanthe was pinning a small brooch to the lapel of her jacket, the same kind given to the Dolls that had previously graduated from the school. “An admirable Doll must find the true feelings a client wishes to communicate, based on the words they tell you. You were able to take that step.” Violet said nothing in response, as she was too preoccupied with glancing down at the brooch. She’d done what she had previously set out to do when signing up for the course—she’d graduated, proving that she could be a capable Auto-Memory Doll.

“Violet,” Rodanthe said, breaking her from her trance, and Violet finally looked back up at her. “I truly hope you become a successful Doll.” She gave Violet the slightest of smiles, but even so, she understood that her former instructor meant it.

Luculia burst out in high pitched laughter, as if she could no longer contain herself. “Violet!” She suddenly threw her arms around Violet, who could only glance down at Luculia as she went on. “Congratulations!”

“Luculia,” Violet said simply, unsure of how else to reply, and the other Doll pulled away from her, still smiling. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Thank you, Violet. Thank you for everything.”

* * *

Hodgins was rather enthusiastic in his reaction to the news that Violet had gotten the brooch after all—he threw his arms around her in a tight hug, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head. Violet was unused to that sort of affection from him, and didn’t quite know what to make of it.

However, later in the evening, she had time to reflect on all that had happened in recent days as she sat on the roof of the postal company. The wind tousled her hair, which she’d removed from its complicated braids and tied back in a simple ponytail instead. One hand was on her abdomen, an instinctive response to the slight stirring she felt due to the baby—something that seemed to be occurring more frequently than it was a couple weeks before.

“Thought I might find you out here,” a voice suddenly cut in. Violet flinched at the interruption, her hand shifting away from her abdomen as she turned to face the newcomer—none other than Benedict Blue, who was hobbling rather unsteadily on his heeled boots as he inched toward her position on the roof. “Sorry if I scared you.” He sat down next to her, turning his gaze towards the setting sun.

“I used to do this too, you know,” Benedict sighed. “I’d sit up here for hours, just trying to remember anything at all about my past. Didn’t work,” he said bitterly, laughing a little to himself.

He turned his head towards Violet then, sighing. “I was wondering… can I ask you something? It’s not really any of my business, and Hodgins told me not to, but I’d like to know if you’d be okay with telling me.”

Violet didn’t even blink at him. “That depends on your question.”

Benedict coughed, lacing his hands together in his lap. “Well, it’s a bit tricky, ‘cause I dunno how to put this. Um… if you don’t mind telling me… do you have any idea why Hodgins wants me to tag along when you go on trips for your job?” He looked away, turning his head back towards the orange sky, and Violet followed suit.

“The President is… concerned for my well-being,” she replied after a long pause. “My current condition differs from when I was a soldier.” Benedict suddenly remembered the gloves on her hands, and glanced back toward her for a moment, feeling embarrassed at the thought that he’d been concerned about her health when her condition was fairly obvious. “Oh. Right. Your arms.” Hodgins probably just hadn’t wanted to mention any more about Violet’s background as a soldier.

Violet nodded, and Benedict turned his attention to a coin in his pocket, flicking it between his fingers as she spoke. “I lost them in the final battle at Intense. The major… sustained injuries, and I…”

He only turned to look back at her when he realized she’d gone silent. Violet was no longer glancing at him or even the sunset—instead, she seemed transfixed by something on her dress. She was staring down at her abdomen, one hand splayed over it. Her other hand was clenched in a fist at her side, and because he was sitting so close to her, Benedict could tell that she was trembling slightly.

“You okay, Vi?” He asked. She didn’t respond, or even look up at him, so he inched closer to her, slowly reaching towards her with one hand so as not to startle her. For an instant, he considered setting a hand on top of her own, but opted instead to lightly tap her shoulder. She shifted at his touch and tilted her head up, staring back at him with unblinking blue eyes, but she still did not speak. “Vi? What’s wrong? You feeling all right?”

She gave him a very slight nod. “Yes, my health is good. I am merely… unused to this.” The hand still resting on her abdomen shifted, distorting the fabric of her dress. “I feel it more frequently than I did when it first started.” Then Violet bit her lip, as if saying something she should not have, and Benedict regarded her quizzically.

“When…when what started, Vi?” She only shook her head at him in response, but in that moment, something clicked in Benedict’s mind. It was all beginning to make sense—her mentioning dizziness and nausea, Hodgins making him keep an eye on her, and even now as he could see the slight curve of her belly against the fabric and he came to the realization that he hadn’t been able to see that just two weeks before.

_Shit_.

He coughed again. There was no other way for him to phrase his next question than to ask as directly as possible. “Violet, are you… are you pregnant?”

Another nod. “President Hodgins requested that I not tell anyone for a little while.” Violet paused, reaching up to close her fingers around the emerald brooch she always wore. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Benedict spoke before she could.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want them to know. And Hodgins doesn’t need to know that you told me. It’s my own fault anyway; I asked you directly.” Then he sighed. “Sorry about that, by the way. I was just… worried about you. All the stuff that’s gone on just reminded me so much of my sister, and it’s like I can’t get her out of my mind. So, to deal with it, I just end up worrying about you instead.”

Benedict put an arm around her shoulders, and was taken by surprise when she didn’t object to the contact. She didn’t move any closer to him, but she did not withdraw, either. The two sat in silence for a long while, watching the sun sink closer to the horizon, and it was surprisingly not awkward for Benedict in the slightest.

He was usually uncomfortable with long silences, but this felt… nice. Peaceful.

Violet was the one who finally broke it. “Benedict, may I ask you something?” He nodded in return. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I just gave you the third degree, for crying out loud,” he said with a chuckle. “Ask me whatever you want.”

Her first question was a bit unexpected, but fairly normal, all things considered. “How old are you?” Benedict couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Oh, uh… I’m twenty-three. Honestly didn’t think I’d live as long as I have, but, well… here we are.”

Violet nodded. “I do not know for sure how old I am, but the major estimated that I was about sixteen when we met. So I am probably around twenty years of age by now.” Benedict cleared his throat, unsure of how to respond—though, her estimate did sound right. She definitely didn’t look any older than twenty or so.

A silence fell once again, but this time it was much more brief, as Violet had another question for him. And despite her already unusual nature, nothing could have prepared him for her next inquiry.

“I have noticed that we share some resemblance, as well as loss of our childhood memories. And I have wondered since you told me about your younger sister, if there was a possibility that I might be her. Have you considered it?”

He stiffened, searching frantically in her blue eyes for any sort of evidence that she was playing at telling a joke—but he found none. In truth, he hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility, even after she confided in him about her own amnesia. It was true that they had that in common, and that she was younger than him, and even that she looked an awful lot like him—but then again, sometimes even complete strangers were known to resemble each other.

And despite all the time he’d spent with her, that was still all that Violet Evergarden was to Benedict—a stranger. He knew almost nothing about her, especially when compared to what she knew about him. And the sister from what was left of his memories, the one he still loved so dearly and saw in dreams every night despite not knowing her name or even what she looked like, could not possibly be someone like Violet Evergarden. The image of the young, gentle child in his dreams could never be reconciled with the detached, mysterious soldier sitting beside him.

“No,” he finally answered. “To tell you the truth, most of the time, I’m pretty sure I’ll never see her again. We were young when we got separated—that much I can remember. In all honesty, I think she’s… I think she’s dead. I hope that she survived, but the reality is that she probably didn’t.”

Benedict sighed, unable to keep himself from flinching when Violet edged closer to him ever so slightly. “You’re not my sister. But… I’ll still look out for you. You don’t need to worry about that.” He gave her a slight smile, then turned back to look at the setting sun. Beauty was the one thing he could always appreciate about the world, and the view from the roof was certainly just that. “I really do miss her, though. My sister. And even though it’s not likely, I still hope that… that I’ll see her again one day.”

Violet nodded, and Benedict saw something in her eyes that, for the first time, made him feel that she really, truly understood something he was saying. “I hope to see the major again as soon as possible,” she murmured. “There are things I would like to tell him.”

Benedict knew better than to ask what things, as he already had his suspicions that those were very personal. Even so, he stayed with her on the roof a while longer, until she informed him that she would like to go back to her room. So he helped her climb down through the window, despite her insistence that she did not require his aid.

It was only after he bid her goodnight that a previously unnoticed truth hit him full-force. Violet Evergarden may not have been his sister, but she was certainly no stranger.

And after that time they spent in comfortable silence, sitting on the rooftop with no need for words to satisfy their need for company, he might even consider her a friend.

_Violet Evergarden_, he thought. _You are certainly unlike anyone else I have ever met. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really really hope you like all the extra details I added. (The scene with Benedict teasing Hodgins was fun as hell to write, tbh.) All the stuff about Benedict’s sister is from the novel, at least the basics. I had to fill in a few holes myself bc we still don’t know everything. I am, however, FIRMLY CONVINCED that—actually, wait, no, I’ll save that rant for later. I do, however, stand by my opinion that Iris and Benedict HAD POTENTIAL, THEY JUST NEEDED TO INTERACT MORE. (And since this is my fic, that can be arranged.) ;)  
Comments/kudos are appreciated wholeheartedly!


	4. A First Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK! Miss Rhona has not gotten me, lol. But, lemme tell you, this was a BEAST. I forget the exact word count right now, but I think it's close to 18k. (There is a reason it takes me a millennium to update.) This chapter was (mostly) pretty fun to write, what with Benedict and Iris just being, well, the way that they are.
> 
> However, we all know Violet Evergarden is, in a lot of ways, a heavier show, and the novel is even darker. There's actually a scene I wrote in here that is inspired by a scene in the novel, and I feel I have to include a trigger warning for it--it is a very, very slight allusion to attempted assault, and it's only mentioned once with no real actual detail, but I thought it would be polite to mention that.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

"What? Really?! _I_ was requested?!"

The shout came from Iris, and the sheer volume was enough to cause Violet—who had been picking up empty teacups left over from that morning—to turn her head towards the sound, in time to see Iris jumping from her chair in shock at the news. Benedict, who was standing next to her, rolled his eyes, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Violet reasoned that Hodgins must have not noticed this, as he and Cattleya were both still smiling in Iris' direction, and Violet knew from observing patterns in his behavior that if Hodgins had seen Benedict, he would have given the postman a much sharper look.

Cattleya nodded in response to Iris, who had seemingly gone stiff from her shock. "I'm so happy for you, Iris," she said warmly, and Hodgins gave a slight nod himself to indicate his agreement. Then he looked down at the sheet of paper he was holding—no doubt the slip containing the request for the services of Iris Cannary. "Your destination is Kazalli."

Iris flinched. "Wait, but… Kazalli's my hometown!" As she said those words, Benedict finally turned his attention away from eavesdropping and set about assisting Violet in her task, removing the tea tray she'd placed the cups on from her grasp. "I'll carry it back to the kitchen for you," he said, quietly enough so as not to disturb the other conversation, and left the room despite Violet's insisting that she was capable of doing it herself.

"It's strange," Erica remarked, once Benedict had walked off. "I've never seen him worry about someone so much." For once, Violet could not think of anything to say in return—not even to offer a plausible explanation. In truth, she knew it was likely due to him knowing about her baby, since he'd only acted that way for the last week. But Violet was still hesitant when it came to telling anyone else. So, she walked into the area of the room where Cattleya and Hodgins were conferring with Iris, and came to a stop at Cattleya's side in time for her to catch on to what she was saying.

"All right, to commemorate Iris' first commission, let's all go have lunch together," Cattleya said cheerfully, grinning at Hodgins. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to her, but before he could, Cattleya busied herself with herding Erica, Iris, and Violet out of the room and towards the stairs.

Cattleya walked in front of the other three, with Iris in the center, and Violet and Erica lagged behind at each other's side. "Benedict will not be pleased that I left without him," Violet said softly to Erica, who rolled her eyes in return. "He worries about you too much," she replied, a bit bluntly. "You'll be fine with us for one afternoon."

Violet sighed. "President Hodgins told him to accompany me on my travels, and he takes his orders seriously. Benedict is only looking out for my own safety." In answer, Erica shrugged. "Still, he's going to make himself sick from stress if he's not careful."

Iris was still too caught up in her own excitement to take notice of any of their conversation. She was holding onto the large pendant that always hung from her neck with one hand, practically skipping down the steps. "Did you guys know that I'm the only one in my village who became a Doll? I wonder if the client heard about me from someone," she mused, hopping down another step. "Honestly, I'm just happy to be able to go home and show off this uniform!" With that last sentence, Iris' voice reached a high pitch Violet wasn't familiar with, and found it to be a bit unpleasant for her ears. However, she said nothing of it—there were other things on her mind.

Iris, meanwhile, laughed. "I know all my friends and family are gonna want to come see me!" Erica frowned a little at that, letting out a soft sigh.

"Be careful not to get carried away," she murmured. "Remember that you are representing the CH Postal Company." Iris huffed, letting her pendant fall. She was quite obviously displeased with Erica's response.

"Yeah, I know that!" Iris snapped at Erica, and Violet glanced down at the other Doll. "I believe that was a disingenuous answer."

Iris stiffened, stopping in her tracks, then whirled around to face Violet. "What?! What did you—AH!" She was cut off midsentence when she stumbled, the heels of her shoes buckling beneath her feet, and the loss of balance sent her backwards, towards the floor. Violet ducked forward to catch her, but was unable to reach her in time, and Iris landed quite roughly on the floor below.

* * *

Benedict was unable to contain his laughter upon discovering that Iris had fallen down the stairs from tripping over her own feet, but she'd yelled right back at him about how often his own heeled shoes caused him injury. This resulted in a rather loud exchange of words, and the pair of them were quite close to erupting into a full-blown fight. However, Hodgins intervened in the nick of time—only to inform them that Violet would be accompanying Iris to Kazalli to type on her behalf, on account of her badly sprained wrist, and therefore Benedict would have to go along as Violet's escort. This resulted in loud protests from both of them.

"_What_?!" Benedict and Iris shouted in unison, with the former of the two groaning, "Aw, come on, old man! I can't put up with her for that long! I thought hanging out by the school with nothing to do was bad enough, but this is worse!"

Iris nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I don't want to deal with his whining the entire time! This was supposed to be _my_ request! And what does Violet even _need_ an escort for, anyway?!"

At the question, Hodgins went silent, then let out a sigh. "That is enough, all right?" he snapped. "Iris, Violet is only typing in your behalf because you hurt yourself—"

"And it was _her_ fault," Iris grumbled, rolling her eyes. Hodgins chose to ignore her comment. "—And because she is accompanying you," he went on, "then her needs have to be considered as well as your own. That includes Benedict going with her. It's for her personal safety."

Then he turned to give Benedict a sharp glare. "And you _know_ that accompanying Violet on her travels is part of your job now. No matter where she goes or who is with her, you stay by her side. Is that clear?" Benedict only let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes, then nodded reluctantly.

"It's clear," he huffed. Then, he and Iris found themselves speaking in unison once more. "But—"

Hodgins shook his head. "No argument," he said firmly. "You both think you can't get along well enough to go on one short trip together? Good, you're agreeing on something for once. Use that." Then he turned and left the room without another word, ignoring the sputtering and only half coherent protests from the pair behind him.

Cattleya was waiting in the back of the room when he got to his office, and the sight was enough to bring a smile to his face, even in his current state of exhaustion. "Hey, Cattleya," he sighed, all but collapsing into his chair after the greeting. She frowned at him, clearly concerned, but seated herself on the edge of his desk regardless.

"Are you all right, Claudia?" she murmured, in that especially soft voice of hers. "Should I get you some coffee?"

He shook his head, covering his eyes with one hand. "No, the last thing I need is more caffeine—my nerves are bad enough as it is. I just have a bit of a headache," Hodgins clarified, and she nodded, that lovely smile creeping back onto her face. Then, she reached forward, taking one of his hands in her own, and Hodgins flinched, surprised at the gesture despite how commonplace it was between the two of them.

"Talk to me, Cattleya," he nudged gently, smiling back. "Lately, it's like I don't know what's going on in your head most of the time. I miss that." She chuckled, and he took the time to carefully lace their fingers together, admiring how well her hand fit in his own. "Come on," he prodded good-naturedly, still grinning at her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She laughed—a full, genuine laugh. As always, it was still one of, if not _the_ most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Something deep within his chest tugged at him, like it had for the last few months, but as always, he shoved it aside in favor of focusing on his companion.

"You are charming as always, Claudia," she teased. "To be honest, there's not much on my mind at the moment… perhaps we could discuss it over dinner instead?"

Hodgins knew cajoling when he saw it, and this definitely fit the bill—though he didn't mind much when it was Cattleya. It got a laugh out of him, and he shrugged. "Oh, fine," he sighed, though he was smiling wide enough for her to know he wasn't really bothered. They'd shared meals together quite often, both during the war and after. "This evening, usual place?" Cattleya nodded in return, and her gaze lingered on him long enough that his attention was inevitably drawn back to her lips, painted in their usual deep shade of red. She was close enough to him that if he really wanted to, he could simply lean forward and close the distance between them.

_No_, he thought. _I can't do that, not to her_. It was not that he had never kissed her before, but he had never done so in such a casual way. It was only something done when they both sought a specific kind of solace in one another—and even that, Hodgins felt he did not deserve. What he had with Cattleya was companionship, not romance—romance being something he'd told her, before their first night together, that he could not offer her. She'd accepted it, surprisingly, despite all the talk he'd heard from her about her utter fascination with and adoration of romantic love. His company would be enough, she'd said. According to her, it had always been enough. Even though he knew she deserved far better.

He was finally broken from his reminiscing when Cattleya pulled away from his grasp. "Well," she said with a slight smile, rising to her feet, "I should get back before the others miss me. I need to wish Iris luck on her first request, after all—she leaves tomorrow."

_With Violet_, he remembered. All Hodgins could hope for was that Violet would be all right—Kazalli was a peaceful, quiet village that remained largely untouched by the war, but the thought of being so far away from her still worried him. The school had been one thing, as it was still a part of Leiden, but Kazalli was a whole day away, even by train.

Still, he nodded. "Yeah, you should do that," Hodgins murmured, not unkindly. He gave Cattleya a small smile, and in return she bowed her head just slightly. As she turned to leave, he added, "Make sure Benedict knows to look after Violet, all right?"

Cattleya smiled a little. "He's already been doing that very well, but I'll be sure to let him know." She paused, lacing her fingers together in front of her. "Is there anything else you want me to do for you, Claudia?"

Hodgins grinned. "Wear something pretty tonight." She laughed in return—those words had become a kind of secret joke between the two of them, and despite never figuring out a punchline, it was enough to elicit laughter or at least a smile from both of them every time. "I will do my best, then."

Once she'd gone from the room, Hodgins let out a heavy sigh. _No romance,_ he'd said, so long ago. _I know I'll never be able to love you the way you might want, and it wouldn't be fair to you or me if I wasn't honest about that. _He'd told her he could not be that person for her—a lover, a husband. It wasn't the kind of man he was, especially when it came to someone like her. He could be a companion, should she want that, but he had warned her it would not be the same as a marriage. That he could love her as a friend and trust her with things that no one else knew about and even stay by her side on lonely nights, but that she shouldn't think of him in the way she would a husband. And yet, here he was now, faced with a realization that he knew he could never speak of to Cattleya, no matter how much it pained him.

He had fallen in love with her. Even admitting that pierced him like a thorn in his heart—he hadn't ever thought it possible for him to feel that way about anyone. He'd had many friends, many one-night stands, a few companions, and although he had felt _something_ for each of them, his feelings for Cattleya were an entirely new experience.

He was completely in love with Cattleya Baudelaire, and it terrified him.

* * *

Late afternoon sunlight shone through the windows on the train. Iris sat by herself on one of the benches, all but glaring out at the landscape rushing by, while Benedict and Violet sat across from her. Violet was leaning against the window just as Iris had been, although unlike Iris, she was nearly asleep—the motion from the train wasn't helping to distract her from her inexplicable, sudden exhaustion, and the warmth from the sun made it that much easier for her eyes to slide shut. Violet was not used to this sort of fatigue, since it had only occurred within the last couple of months. She supposed it had to do with the baby, as nearly everything unusual about her health did.

Benedict lightly tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to flinch at the touch. "Oh, sorry, Vi," he said gently. "I just wanted to make sure you're feeling okay." He gave her a faint smile, setting one hand on her shoulder—slowly and more carefully than he had when trying to get her attention.

In return, Violet nodded. "I'm all right. Only a little tired." Benedict chuckled, leaning back against his seat. He stretched out all four of his limbs with a low groan.

"That's understandable," he finally replied. "When you're just sitting here and it's warm, it kinda makes you wanna doze off." A yawn escaped him, and Benedict grinned. "See?"

Iris, who had been watching them, scoffed and rolled her eyes. For once, Benedict scowled a little, but did not say anything in retaliation. Violet only leaned back against the window, no longer fighting the way her eyelids drooped. Already, she could feel her exhaustion pulling her under, and for once she did not try to resist.

"Get some rest, Vi," Benedict murmured. It was the last thing she heard before slipping into a calm, dreamless sleep.

When it became clear that Violet was no longer conscious, the pair accompanying her simply sat in a long, tense silence for several minutes, with Benedict tossing a small rubber ball up towards the ceiling repeatedly—which he dropped more than once and had to retrieve—while Iris stared blankly from the train window out into the countryside, without actually looking at the scenery.

Iris was the first to break the silence, motivated by boredom and general annoyance at having to be in the company of Benedict Blue, even if she was not exactly required to engage with him more than absolutely necessary.

"So," she began curtly, pausing long enough for him to corral his rubber ball and look back down at her. He still had that scowl on his face, and Iris thought to herself that he looked much better without it. (Where had _that_ come from?) "You call her 'Vi' now, huh?"

Benedict shrugged, twirling the plaything he kept losing around in his right hand. "Short for Violet. What about it?" As always, he was closed-off and curt, and while not being openly hostile, he still came across as rude and moody. Most of the time, that was the reason she yelled at him—except, of course, during the times he was downright idiotic, like the recent incident where he'd left a full glass of water on top of some of her paperwork, then proceeded to knock it over as he turned around. (Just thinking about it only annoyed her more.)

"Just wondering," Iris answered offhandedly, tempted to lean back and slam her head against the train seat in frustration. They still had several hours to go, and for once the greatest thorn in her side seemed to have no real interest in a fight. She didn't either, but at least it would pass time.

Then a new thought came to her, courtesy of Benedict's new nickname for Violet, and she smirked. "Hm." At that, Benedict cast an interested glance in her direction, the scowl finally leaving his face. He definitely looked less… infuriating, now. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently indicating he was waiting for her to continue.

"I think I'll call you 'Ben' now," she finally said, and in an instant, the curious expression on his face dropped, replaced with a look Iris could only describe as utter bewilderment. "Wh—you—you can't do that!" he exclaimed.

Iris almost laughed aloud. She'd expected a little grumbling from him, or a sarcastic quip, or even him snapping at her, but nothing quite like what he was doing now. So she leaned back against the seat, giving herself a moment to take in the fact that she had finally and completely gotten the better of him in one of their conversations. Any other time, Hodgins would always yell for them to knock it off before she could get to that point. "And why can I not call you that?"

"'Cause I don't like it," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. It reminded Iris of a pouty child—the way her much younger cousins would act when they did not get their way in something. So, she grinned.

"I just did, _Ben_."

His comeback began with incoherent sputtering of monosyllables before he finally gave up on forming an intelligible sentence. Then his idea of retaliation became throwing his rubber ball at her. Iris caught it midair with her uninjured arm, and what was once an argument turned into a rather aggressive game of catch that both could not help but laugh during. The ball bounced off the windows twice, and once ricocheted off of the ceiling and hit Benedict in the forehead.

The game only came to an end when Benedict threw the object a little too hard, and managed to strike Iris squarely in one eye. She yelped, hissed in pain and covered her eye with her hand, while Benedict jumped up from his seat and bent down in front of her, wincing in sympathy.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry," he said, reaching toward her awkwardly with one arm, unsure of how to help. Iris, who was now (temporarily) half-blind from pain, had no time to wonder why he was apologizing to her—which he'd never done before in his life.

"Like hell you are," she snapped, turning away from him. Benedict, despite having regarded her with concern until then, rolled his eyes, slamming the palm of his hand onto the wood floor. "Damn it, woman! I was _trying_ to be nice!"

Iris huffed, still covering her sore eye with one hand. "Emphasis on _was_," she shot back. "The second I'm not demure and agreeable, you turn into a complete jerk!"

Benedict finally stopped glaring at her, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He slumped back into a half sitting position in front of the bench where Violet still sat, fast asleep, and let out a sigh. "Look, Iris," he began, holding up a hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to protest, "we're both bored and tired. I really don't want a fight right now, and I imagine you don't either. So let's just… try and be civil, at least."

Iris slouched in her seat, sighing, and Benedict got up from the floor and returned to a normal sitting position while he waited for her to respond. "Oh, all right," she said finally. "But you're still ignoring what I said. You act like a jerk the second I don't agree with you on something."

"I'm not ignoring you," he replied. It may have been her imagination, but Iris could have sworn that the corners of his mouth twitched up in the faintest hint of a smile. "I'm just thinking about it. You may have a point."

She rolled her eyes. "You're just saying _that_ 'cause you're bored out of your skull."

Benedict chuckled, resting his hands behind his head as he leaned back. A wry grin slowly spread over his face, one that Iris had seen before when he was teasing Hodgins. "_That_, you're definitely right about. Though I'm pretty sure you'd still be brooding and ignoring me if you weren't _also_ completely bored."

That got a smirk from her. "You know what? That's fair. God, I am gonna go crazy just sitting here. I should've brought a book or something." Benedict nodded, then tilted his head to the right to glance at the still-sleeping Violet next to him. He raised an eyebrow when he realized she was still quite sound asleep, chuckling lightly.

"Or, you could do what Violet's doing and just nap. Somehow, she slept through our entire game _and_ your little injury. Must be the train." He punctuated this with a yawn and crossed his legs, trying to lean further back against the seat.

Iris' eyes widened. She laughed, impressed, and leaned forward a little, resting her chin on one hand. "She's _still_ asleep? Jeez, and I thought _I_ was a heavy sleeper." Benedict shrugged, closing his eyes.

"I'm pretty tired myself," he said, sighing. "So I'm gonna try and take a nap. Wake me when we've got a few hours to go."

Iris rolled her eyes, then gave him a halfhearted mock salute in return. "Sure, Ben." He made an indignant noise at the nickname, but said nothing else. Iris turned back to glance out of the train window, and by the time she returned her attention to the other two passengers across from her a few minutes later, she could tell Benedict had already fallen asleep.

_Damn it, Benedict_, she thought, frustrated. _I just don't _get_ you. For a little bit there, you weren't so bad, and then you went right back to being a thorn in my side._ She let out a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. _Why is it always the good-looking ones that do that?_

She shook her head inwardly at that thought, as if to clear her head. It would do her no good to think about him in that way, even though he was, in some ways, what she would consider attractive. Physically, at least. Regardless, it could go nowhere—she drove him insane as much as he did to her. Better to stop that kind of thinking before it could start.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Violet woke up, and Iris was in a similar position to what the Doll had last seen before dozing off—glaring out the window, clearly distracted and annoyed. Her good hand was tapping restlessly against the windowsill. Next to Violet, Benedict was slouched against the seat, unconscious. She wondered how long he'd been asleep—which reminded her that she must have slept for quite a while if the sun had gone down.

"How long was I sleeping for?" Violet asked, breaking the silence. Iris flinched a little, then turned to face her, sighing.

She shrugged. "Several hours. You were out like a light."

"Oh." Violet's eyes dropped to her lap. "I apologize." A strange noise from her companion made Violet look back up, and she found Iris staring at her with an odd look on her face, one she'd seen before on Benedict or Hodgins, but never on Iris. It was unlike her to have that same expression that Hodgins and Benedict did whenever they expressed concern for her.

"Don't apologize," Iris replied. "I mean, you must've needed that rest, right? Otherwise you would've woken up already. You didn't do anything wrong, Violet." A slight smile appeared on her face, and Violet nodded slightly. "I see."

Iris chuckled, tilting her head towards the sleeping passenger beside Violet. "Besides, Ben is no better. He's been out nearly as long as you were. _And_ he snores." Violet opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when Iris added, "I call him Ben now. It annoys him, but it's fun."

Violet did not know how to respond to that remark, so she let it alone. "How close are we to Kazalli?"

Iris, in turn, shrugged, then reached for something inside the bag on the seat next to her. After some rummaging, she pulled out a small rubber ball, the same one that, unbeknownst to Violet, she'd stolen from Benedict after their nonsensical game. "Probably fairly close by now," she replied. "We should get there a little after sunrise. Which means I have to wake up our, ah, _friend_ here."

Without hesitating, she threw the rubber ball towards him, and Benedict jolted awake after it hit him squarely in the chest. Iris snickered. "Wake up, you idiot, we'll be there in a few hours." Benedict glowered at her, grumbling things under his breath in annoyance as he pocketed the object she'd used to rouse him, but his expression instantly softened when he turned and glanced at Violet.

"Oh, hey," he murmured, smiling a bit. "You're awake. Good. Feeling okay?"

Violet nodded, then turned her attention away from Benedict to grab ahold of the bag she'd stowed underneath the train seat. Iris went back to gazing out of the window, and Benedict watched Violet as she rummaged through her belongings. After a bit, she pulled out a large map of the continent, and began tracing place names and roadways with her fingertips until she found what she was looking for—Kazalli.

Across from them, Iris groaned, practically glowering out at the passing landscape as the reality of the situation hit her. "I am so unlucky! This was going to be my _one_ chance to show off my elegant typing." Benedict, who would have ordinarily rolled his eyes at her remark or said something cutting, stayed silent.

Violet spoke up instead. "Do not be upset. I will be typing in your place, so there's nothing to worry about." Iris sighed, staring down at the floor, and shook her head.

"Yes, I know, but that's not the issue." She squeezed her eyes shut, while Violet glanced at the map in her hands.

Benedict also examined the paper Violet was holding, but flinched a little when she suddenly began reciting facts. It was eerie how little sound came from her when she was completely still, which made her shift to speech all the more startling.

"Kazalli is a village halfway up the mountain whose main industries are dairy and agriculture," she stated, causing Iris to look up. "There are no other particular characteristics or history to mention." Benedict chuckled a little at that, and Iris let out a huff.

"So what? Sorry we've got nothing else," she snapped.

Violet, in turn, blinked in confusion and shook her head at Iris. "There is nothing wrong with that. When there is an area with something of value, it tends to attract crime and other trouble. Northern Leidenschaftlich had iron and copper ore deposits, which enticed the Gardarik Empire to attack."

Benedict raised an eyebrow at her, impressed by her observation—though, when he thought on it a little more, he realized he should have expected such a calculation from a former soldier—while Iris sighed and turned her gaze towards her lap. "That's true," she conceded. "And they say that's what caused the war."

When Iris looked back up, Benedict smirked at her. "See, Iris? Nothing wrong with being a farm girl." Iris groaned, waving her uninjured hand at him dismissively. "Oh, shove it, Ben."

He laughed. "Whatever you say, _farm girl._" Benedict almost expected her to hit him, or throw something at him, but all she did was give him a withering look—which made him grin even wider. "What? It was a compliment."

"Pretty weird compliment, if you ask me," she shot back. Benedict shrugged, leaning back more into his seat so he could get a better look at the map in Violet's hands. As he leaned over the paper, scrutinizing it in a manner similar to what Violet was doing, Iris had to blink to ensure she was not, in fact, seeing double.

Their expressions and manner were almost perfect mirrors of each other, from the way their eyes scanned the writing down to the positioning of their hands on the map. They almost looked like…

Iris let out a snort, causing them both to look up. "Huh?" Benedict got out, and Iris couldn't hold back her grin. "You two could be twins," she replied, snickering. "It's crazy, really, but for a second I thought I was seeing things. You look exactly alike."

"Um…" Benedict shared a brief, awkward glance with Violet, who looked away half a second before he did, replying, "It is true that we have certain physical attributes in common, but it is simply not possible for us to be twins. Benedict is older than I am."

Iris rolled her eyes. "I was joking, Violet." Then, a frown appeared on her face as she thought about what Violet had said. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"

"Around twenty," Violet replied.

Iris groaned at her answer. "Damn it, I'm still the youngest Doll in the writing department. Even you and Erica are older than me." Before Violet could respond, she continued. "I'm eighteen." _Well, almost nineteen,_ she corrected in her head. Benedict gave her an odd look, as if he hadn't expected that, and Iris sighed, wringing her hands. "Born and raised in a farming village, where nothing interesting ever happened to me until I moved to the city. Even the war didn't really touch us. The closest it came to that was when my uncle was going to volunteer to fight. But my aunt was against it, so he ended up not enlisting. Which kept him safe, thankfully." Iris smiled at the thought.

Then she flinched, her eyes flitting down to one of Violet's gloved hands, and she looked away. "Oh. Sorry."

"I don't understand. Why are you apologizing?" Violet asked, and Iris shut her eyes. "You know… because you didn't come out of it okay."

"But I don't understand why you would feel responsible for my injury," Violet replied. Iris stiffened at her response, and started to fidget with the pendant around her neck—Benedict couldn't help but notice she did that quite a bit.

Iris shrugged a little. "Well, I might not be responsible, but—"

"An apology is admitting to responsibility and asking for forgiveness," Violet interjected, and Iris let out a frustrated groan, leaning forward as she tangled a hand in her hair. "Ugh! Okay, I get it!" She turned her head back towards the window, sighing heavily. And if Violet was taken by surprise at the sharpness of her words, she didn't show it.

Benedict turned towards Violet, placing a hand on top of her own. "Don't worry about it, Vi," he murmured.

"We'll be there soon," he said, a little louder, so that Iris could hear him as well. "You might wanna get some rest yourself," he said to the Doll, who didn't turn back to look at him.

"Yeah, sure." Iris shrugged halfheartedly. "I'll do that." Then she chuckled to herself, giving Benedict a knowing look. "Unlike the rest of you, I like to sleep when it's dark out."

However, even though Iris leaned her head against the train window and let her eyes shut for a few minutes, she did not sleep. The pair across from her didn't even notice when her eyes opened again, and she watched them without making a sound.

Iris had never really understood Benedict, but Violet Evergarden was even more of an enigma to her. Violet was, for the most part, as silent and still as a doll—not the sort of Doll they both already were, but like an expensive plaything that a child might place in a windowsill. She had the look of one, too—long, silky hair, skin almost as white as porcelain, and large eyes that were mostly expressionless. Presently, she was staring down at the map in her hands, while Benedict leaned over her, tracing roads with one finger and explaining things about their route in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

That was another thing she didn't understand—Iris had played it off as a joke to them before, but it really was puzzling that they were so alike. There were many similarities between them, and not just in looks. The slight shifts in their expressions seemed to mirror each other, as did the subtle gestures they both made with their hands when conversing. There was no awkwardness between them that she'd usually seen before in people who did not know each other well, as if they already had some sort of connection.

Either way, Iris knew it would do her no good to be distracted by them when she had a job to do, so she forced it out of her mind. Maybe she could get some sleep after all.

* * *

The sun was already higher up in the sky by the time the train pulled into the station, with the subsequent whistle rousing Iris from her slumber. Violet, who had begun to nod off again as well—and who was still unused to being tired as often as she was now—jolted awake. Benedict, who had stayed awake for the remainder of the trip, was busy organizing some things in his bag, but laughed as Iris shot up in her seat at the noise.

"Jeez. You guys are tense," he remarked, and Iris rolled her eyes. Violet remained silent as she grabbed her suitcase, and stood up—with perfect posture, Iris noticed—the moment the train came to a stop.

"Okay, guys, remember," Iris began as they stepped off the platform, "Kazalli is my hometown. Which means we will probably run into a lot of people that know me. So, if you don't want to make me look like an idiot, don't say anything. _Especially_ you, Benedict."

Benedict let out a snort. "Got it, you want me to run my mouth." Iris huffed, making a point to shove him to the side as she marched a good distance away from him, towards the doorway of the station. Benedict sighed, and Violet regarded him curiously as they walked.

"Did that hurt you?"

He shook his head, frowning at the girl stomping ahead of them. "No, no. Not much does. It's nothing, really. I just wish she wouldn't call me an idiot so much." Then he chuckled, waving a dismissive hand towards Violet. "Ah, just ignore me. I don't really know what I'm saying."

Violet tensed slightly. "Are you certain that you are all right, Benedict?"

He sighed in frustration. "Look, Vi, no offense, but please stop asking. I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind." He then let out a rather strange laugh, staring at the ground. "You have this weird effect on me, you know. I say more to you in five minutes than I do to everyone else in a week. I'm… not used to that."

"I see," Violet replied. "I apologize for asking too many questions."

"Don't apologize," he murmured. "Just… forget I said anything. It's not a big deal." Violet fell silent once more as they stepped outside the covered platform and into the sunshine.

Benedict let out a low whistle as they stepped closer to the station door and were greeted with a blast of warm air. "God, it's hot here," he remarked, then glanced over at Violet. "Aren't you burning up? You have gloves _and_ a jacket on."

She shook her head. "It's not a problem. I am accustomed to these temperatures." Even as she said it, though, she remembered the night on the roof, when she'd first felt the baby. She'd felt a bit too warm for comfort then, and wondered if her current condition had caused that.

Benedict paused, as if unsure of how to reply to her, then answered haltingly, "Well… maybe you should take off the jacket anyway. I don't think it'd be good for the baby if you got too warm." He noticed sweat beading on her forehead, what looked like much more than what he felt on his own skin, and wondered privately if she wasn't being completely honest about the temperature not bothering her.

Violet went still and silent for a moment, then nodded, carefully slipping the jacket off of her shoulders. She quickly tied it around her waist, then slipped the gloves from her hands. Then, something else occurred to her. The thin white fabric of the dress still covered much of her arms, but her hands were now visible. "My prosthetics are more obvious now. Will that be a problem?"

Benedict shook his head. "You're perfectly fine. And if anyone tries to give you a hard time about it, I'll tell them exactly where they can—"

"DAMN IT!"

He was cut off by a shout from Iris, and Violet all but bolted outside at the noise. Benedict had to jog to keep up with her. When he stepped outside, he cursed inwardly at how hot it really was, then caught sight of Iris. Violet had already walked past her, waiting on the dirt path in front of them, but Iris had gone completely still at the bottom step outside of the station. She glanced over at Benedict when he reached her, then went back to staring down at her shoes.

One of them was covered in mud from a puddle she'd just accidentally trod on—undoubtedly, the reason for her frustration. "Watch your step," she grumbled, and Benedict nodded in reply. "Come on."

Without thinking, he placed one hand on her upper back, guiding her forward and stepping around the puddles. It was only when she tensed quite visibly at the contact and made a low strangled sound that he realized what he was doing; then he flinched and pulled away. "Oh! Sorry. Didn't realize." Iris rolled her eyes at his behavior, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like her saying she'd punch him next time.

He was about to reply with a remark of his own when an unfamiliar voice got their attention. "Iris! Welcome home!"

All three of them turned towards the voice, and found it belonged to an older man, sitting in a cart pulled by an ox. Next to him, an older woman who was nearly identical to Iris smiled at her. "Welcome back, dear."

"Mom! Dad!" Iris exclaimed. Her obvious shock got a snort out of Benedict, and she whirled on him. "What's so funny?!" He didn't reply, only laughed harder, and she groaned. "Stop laughing at me, Benedict!"

He caught his breath, covered his smile with one hand. "Sorry, Iris," he replied, in a tone that told her he wasn't sorry at all. She glared at him in response, and her mother frowned.

"Now, Iris," she chided, "you really should write to us more often. The least you could have done is _told_ us you were seeing someone."

Iris stared blankly at her mother. "What?" Her mother gave her a firm look, staring past her shoulder—towards Benedict, Iris realized. Only then did she catch on to her mother's assumption. _She thinks that he and I are… that we're…_

_Well, shit._

"Um…" Iris shared a brief, awkward glance with Benedict, who laughed nervously. Putting on her best sweet smile, Iris grabbed ahold of his arm. "_Ben_, can I talk to you for a second?" Without waiting for an answer, she began dragging him back inside the train station. "Stay there, Violet. We'll be right back."

Once they were safely back inside the train station and out of earshot, Benedict took hold of her by one shoulder. "A little warning would have been nice before you started dragging me," he snapped.

"Well, I'm _sorry_," she hissed, not feeling sorry in the slightest. "But I didn't have any warning either before my mom dropped that on us! What was I supposed to do? And don't say tell the truth," she added firmly. "Mom wants me to find a husband more than anyone else in my life, and that includes me."

He paused, clearing his throat. "Okay. Makes sense. Still… this is bad."

Iris scoffed, covering her eyes with her uninjured hand and stifling a groan. "Yeah, no shit, genius. She thinks _you_ are my boyfriend." Iris let out a sigh, dragging that hand through her hair in frustration. "Ugh, this is _horrible_! If I say you're not my boyfriend, I'll get badgered about how it's better to start young and how I should get a husband soon if I hope to have a lot of kids, and on and on and on. I have been hearing this same shit since I was _fourteen_ years old!"

"Yikes," Benedict said, grimacing. "So, basically, you want to figure out a way to explain this without upsetting your mother." When Iris nodded, he continued, leaning against the wall. "I have an idea. You may not like it, but hear me out."

"Just spit it out," she sighed. "I'll take any suggestions you've got at this point."

A nod. "Okay. What if we just… go along with her assumption? Pretend she's right. It's easier than having to invent a different excuse for me being here—though I should probably tell them I'm Violet's assistant anyway. But we're not gonna be here that long, so why don't we just act like we really are… you know…"

Iris blinked rapidly at him, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying. Her jaw had gone slack, and her mouth hung open slightly. "Have you lost your mind? There is _no_ way—"

"I don't like it any more than you do," he said firmly, holding up a hand to silence her. "But it's our best option, if you really want your mother to leave you alone about it. All we'd have to do is pretend for a couple of days."

Iris let out a groan, fiddling with the pendant around her neck. "She'll still scold me for not telling her about you. But, I guess it's preferable to her usual speech." She sighed heavily, sliding her hands into her pockets.

"Screw it! We'll go with your idea."

Benedict nodded. "Got it. So… how do you wanna do this? I'm not really… familiar with this sort of thing." As he said that, Iris could have sworn his cheeks went pink. "Should we hold hands?"

She rolled her eyes, stepping past him to head back towards the road, where her family and Violet stood waiting for them. "Just shut up and follow me, Ben."

* * *

After a tense, awkward explanation of their (false) relationship—with Benedict discreetly warning Violet not to say anything—Iris' mother revealed that she was in fact the one who requested her daughter. Violet then had to explain that Dolls could not accept requests that used aliases, but she was able to call Hodgins from inside the train station and sort everything out, and after traveling to their home, Iris' mother agreed to use her real name for a commission.

"What kind of invitation is it that you would like me to write for you, ma'am?" Violet asked. Iris could only watch her from the couch where she lay sprawled out, and Benedict stood beside her—still watching Violet, as if he was waiting for something to do for her. He probably was, Iris reasoned, since he'd exhibited a weird attachment to her over the last month—and especially the last week.

Her mother smiled. "An invitation to the birthday party we're throwing for Iris." At that, Iris shot bolt upright on the couch, wide-eyed from shock. "What'd you say?!"

"The day after tomorrow is your birthday, remember?" Iris sighed, sinking back onto the piece of furniture as the words hit her. "I totally forgot." Her mother gave Benedict a particularly sharp look, and he responded with a slight smile—it appeared that even he could tell it would be a bad idea to get defensive around her mother.

"I had no idea, either. She never told me when her birthday was."

That got a little laugh out of Iris' mother, who smiled fondly at her daughter even as she shook her head at her in disapproval. "She said she wanted to invite a huge crowd for a celebration this year." Benedict turned his head to grin at her, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"If it's in two days, I will have to write it immediately," Violet suddenly spoke up. "There is also delivery to consider."

After Iris' mother nodded in confirmation, Violet set to work with the typewriter, setting it on the table and adjusting the paper. Unlike Benedict and Iris, she was seemingly oblivious to the wide, curious eyes of Iris' family, who were rather taken aback by her metal arms in that light.

Just then, two young children—a little girl, and a boy that looked enough like the girl to be her older brother—walked into the room. The first thing that got their attention was the light glinting off of Violet's prosthetic limbs, and they raced over.

"They're so pretty!" the girl exclaimed, in awe. The boy nodded as if he agreed with her, and looked up at Violet with enormous dark eyes. "What happened?"

"Leave her alone," Iris' mother told the children sternly. Violet fixed her own gaze on them and murmured, "Please do not be concerned." She glanced back towards Iris' father. "Do you have a complete invitation list?"

He nodded. "Ah… yes." Iris' mother slid a piece of paper across the table over to Violet, where several names were written down. "This is it."

Iris got up from her seat, bending down over the table. "Let me see it, too." She picked up the paper, eyes scanning the writing, and frowned. "There's a lot of men on this list."

Her mother chuckled. "Well… the list was made before we knew about your relationship. You really should have told us, you know," she chided gently. "You are that age where marriage is your best option. But, either way, they are all old friends of yours." She glanced over at Benedict. "I hope this doesn't offend you."

Benedict shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm not really what you'd call the possessive type." He chuckled, and was about to say something else when Iris' uninjured hand clenched into a fist, and she stared her mother down, carefully setting the paper back onto the table.

"So, that's it, then? You brought me back here, not because you were proud of me becoming a Doll, but because you intended to marry me off?" Her voice was shaking and dangerously low, and Benedict knew from experience with many volatile people that, in that moment, Iris Cannary was very, _very_ close to completely losing her temper. "You even lied to do it!"

"Well, you lied to us too, you know! 'Most popular Doll in Leiden'! We're throwing you this birthday party either way, so don't complain!" Iris' father gave both of them a firm look.

"All right, that's enough." In turn, her mother glanced over at Violet, whose gaze was fixed on the typewriter keys, and she pushed the sheet of paper back towards the other Doll. "Violet, honey. Would you please type this guest list?"

Violet nodded. If she was aware of the tension in the room, she made no indication of that. "Yes, ma'am."

Iris only let out a huff, glaring when she saw Benedict watching her. He'd probably just thought up a smart remark. She made a point to shove past him roughly, slamming her shoulder into his as she stomped toward the stairs. "Don't even think about it, Ben." Then she ran up the staircase, slamming the door to what he assumed was her old room quite audibly. Violet began typing, though she seemed more subdued than usual to Benedict. Her face had gone pink—probably from the heat. He was about to ask her if she was all right, when he noticed the other adults in the room had all turned towards him and were giving him sharp looks. And she looked all right, otherwise.

"Uh… excuse me a minute," he said awkwardly, and all but ran for the stairs.

It wasn't difficult for Benedict to pinpoint which room Iris was in, since quite a bit of thudding and hissed swear words emanated from behind the door. He knocked once on the wood, and there was a loud sigh. "Go _away_, Mom."

Benedict had to smile a little at that. "Not Mom. It's Ben. Can I come in?" There was a lengthy pause, and the sound of several objects clattering and being slammed down onto surfaces. Then, Iris spoke again.

"Fine."

Benedict opened the door and entered the room before Iris could change her mind, shutting it softly behind him. He found her slumped on the edge of a small bed he could assume had once been hers, with her fists closed tightly around the top blanket, distorting some of the fabric. Iris was practically glaring at the floor, and as he drew closer, he could tell her hands were shaking with rage.

He sat down on the bed beside her. "Are you… okay?" Iris scoffed, shaking her head at Benedict as she looked up. Her golden eyes had gone cold, but were brimming with unshed tears.

"Don't," she said. Her voice cracked, and Benedict could tell she was trying very hard not to break down. However, he had no idea what she meant by what she'd just said, so he tilted his head at her a little. "Don't what?"

She sighed, looking back towards the floor. Iris bit her lip, fists clenching around the blanket even tighter. "Don't pretend to care about me. Okay?" She sniffed. "Pretending we're dating in front of my parents is bad enough. But don't pretend you actually care when we're alone. It'll just make this whole fiasco even worse."

Benedict flinched at her words. It was impossible for him to explain why, but some sort of instinct was almost pulling at him, and he had good mind to reach for Iris, and set his hand on her shoulder—though he also knew that would be a bad idea. Another part of him wanted to contradict her, to tell her that he _did_ care, but considering that he barely knew her at all, he doubted there would be any real truth to that statement.

There was, however, one thing he could tell her without any empty words or duplicity, that might help him explain himself to her. It was something he'd seen in her eyes when she confronted her mother— something he'd never seen in her before, but such an uncanny echo of what he used to see in himself that it was almost frightening. If he'd known her better, he might have actually been scared of her in that moment.

"Just now, downstairs, when you got upset… you reminded me of someone." Iris scoffed before he could explain, rolling her eyes. "Lemme guess. Old girlfriend?"

He shook his head, chuckling to himself at her assumption in spite of everything. "No, nothing like that. You, well…" Benedict sighed, staring down at the floor and restlessly swinging his feet back and forth. "For me to explain, there's something about me you have to know. And don't ask questions till after I'm done."

Iris gave a tiny, halfhearted shrug, and nodded. "Lay it on me, I guess." Her largely careless attitude normally would have annoyed him quite a bit, but in that moment, it made him smile a little. Her voice was still cracking a bit, but now that he'd given her a distraction, she seemed a little less close to tears.

Benedict sighed. "I wasn't a soldier during the war. I was, well… there's really no way for me to sugarcoat this. I was a mercenary. Doing dirty work for anyone who'd pay me, just so I could get my next few meals and waste the rest on liquor. I hated it, of course, but… fighting and stealing and," he gulped, dreading the next word, "_killing_ were the only things I knew how to do. I didn't plan on surviving this long, trust me." He chuckled humorlessly. "Hodgins saved my life. But that's not the point."

He turned back to look at Iris, and found that she was watching him with great interest, her eyes wide. "The point is, Iris," he began, "back then, I was really angry. I hated where I was at in life, but I had no idea how to change that, and I hated _myself_ for it, too. That look in your eyes just then… I've seen it a thousand times before when I looked in the mirror. And, yeah, maybe I've said too much considering I barely know you, but…" he shrugged. "That kind of self-loathing is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

In spite of the heaviness that hung in the air, Iris gave him a little half-smile. "Well, that was definitely not what I expected to hear. But, the crazy thing is…" she let out a soft sigh, folding her hands in her lap. Her expression softened. "You're right. I don't like myself very much. It feels like, the minute I found a way to get out of a life I don't want, people are trying to drag me back into it again." Benedict nodded, and for the first time, felt that he understood something about the temperamental woman sitting beside him. She was free-spirited, but other people in her life didn't exactly appreciate that.

He grinned, laughing to himself. "Well, I'm sure you can handle it better than I did, back then. I mean, you've got friends to talk to, for one thing—you spend a lot of time with Erica, right?" Iris nodded, and he went on, "Not to mention, you're a writer. You can write down anything that comes to your mind—and then burn it, if you want. I've thought about doing that myself, but I can never get the words down."

"How _did_ you handle all of that?" She inquired gently, leaning a bit closer to him. "During the war, I mean. But you don't have to tell me if—"

Benedict let out a snort. "I drank. Sometimes I'd find somebody to spend a night with. I mean, alcohol and sex are two of the things people indulge in the most when they're trying to forget themselves, right?" He smiled again, the way he always seemed to when expressing bitterness, but this time it hurt to watch. It was like something behind his eyes was breaking. "And when I was alone and sober and couldn't stand it, I'd damage something. Usually mirrors. I never liked seeing my reflection back then."

"Don't do what I did," he said with a chuckle. "Punching the glass out of multiple mirrors is a bad idea. Look," he said, holding out his right hand. As always, it was protected by one of the black fingerless gloves he always wore—but then he pushed the fabric back, revealing a patchwork of little white scars all across his knuckles. "See what I mean?"

Iris winced, unsure of how to respond. "Ouch." Benedict gave a little nod, pulling the glove back up to cover his hand. "Yeah, it's fine now, but it hurt like a bitch at the time." She laughed, and he smiled in return, and for a moment a bit of peace settled between them.

Then Benedict tensed, suddenly feeling very awkward, and he rose to his feet. "Well, uh… I should go. But you don't have to worry too much about making it through the next couple days. I'm here, remember?" That last question was said in such a way that Iris knew it was a joke, and it brought a smile back onto her face. He turned to leave, but froze in the doorway when Iris spoke up again.

"Hey, Ben?"

He turned around to look at her. "Yeah, what is it? Do you need something?"

She shook her head, tapping her fingers restlessly against the bed frame. "No, I… I just wanted to say thank you. For telling me all that. It helped."

Benedict gave a little nod and was about to say something else, when a rather audible _thud_ emanated from downstairs. "What was that?" Iris asked, and Benedict shrugged. He opened the door, and could hear panicked chatter from the adults downstairs, so he beckoned Iris forward.

Near the stairs, they were able to see onto the floor below, and Benedict got a glimpse of Violet, who was being crowded around by both of Iris' parents, her aunt and uncle, and the two other children. It was quite obvious as to why—she'd slumped onto the floor, and appeared to be unconscious.

"Oh, shit!" Benedict said in a harsh whisper, running for the stairwell. Iris was not far behind him, but unlike her, he took the steps two at a time (and miraculously avoided falling even in those ridiculous boots of his) and reached Violet before Iris was even halfway down the stairs.

Iris watched him, almost too stunned to move, as he pushed past her relatives and knelt down beside Violet. He tilted her head up with one hand, and almost flinched when one of her eyes fluttered open. "Vi? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Benedict?" She murmured. Her voice had gone quite weak, so that Iris could barely hear her as she approached.

He didn't answer, only pressed the back of his other hand to her forehead. "You're overheated, Vi." Then he glanced up at Iris, and she could tell from the haggard look on his face that he was very worried. "She's burning up. I need something to cool her off. Is there any cold water in here?"

What followed was a small commotion, in which Violet was helped off of the floor and onto the couch, and given a cloth soaked in cool water for her forehead. At one point, Violet quite suddenly reached for Benedict's hand, grasping it with such force that he was momentarily caught off-guard. Her eyes locked with his, and for an instant, there was such a raw intensity in her eyes that he almost took a step backward—but it faded away in the next moment, and she released him from her grasp with a sigh.

_What the hell was that?_ he wondered.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Violet resisted being told to rest. She would only agree to it after Iris promised to take her up to her bedroom, where she could work at the desk and lie down if she felt faint again. Benedict insisted on helping her up the stairs, urging her to walk slowly as he guided her forward with one hand on her back.

For an instant, Iris recalled the incident earlier that day outside the train station, where Benedict had done the same thing to her, trying to nudge her forward with his hand. _Maybe it's something he does for people without really thinking about it_, she reasoned. After all, everyone had those kinds of habits.

A slight sinking feeling settled in her chest, one she could not explain, so Iris chose to ignore it altogether. She grabbed a full pitcher and a glass and told her mother she was going to bring Violet some water, and marched upstairs (albeit carefully) before her mother could reply.

As she approached the doorway to her room, she picked up on a bit of chatter and slowed her pace. The longer it took for them to realize she was there, the better—she felt a bit of shame stinging her chest at the thought of eavesdropping, but a greater part of her was desperate to find out just what was going on between Benedict and Violet. She doubted they were in a relationship of any sort, but his behavior around her, and even her general disposition towards him, to an extent, were becoming increasingly bizarre.

"_You have to be more careful, Vi."_ Benedict's voice. He sounded distressed, unsurprisingly. When it came to Violet's welfare, he'd been a fretting mess for the last week at least. _"Hodgins wants me to keep an eye on you because of your condition, but I can't help you if you keep overexerting yourself."_

"_I didn't expect to faint,"_ Violet answered him, but Iris was still so focused on Benedict's last statement that she hardly caught on to what Violet was saying. _Her… condition?_

Then Iris recalled a series of conversations—and the words used—between her mother and aunt some years ago, when her aunt was expecting her first child, and she froze where she stood. Could Violet be… was she—

Benedict sighed, then. _"Violet, you… you're five months pregnant. Things are different for you than they were before. Just… promise me you'll take better care of yourself, all right?"_

So Violet was pregnant, and Benedict had probably been ordered to look out for her for that reason—which meant Hodgins knew about it as well. Iris normally enjoyed her theories being proven correct, but for once she hated being right. This wasn't good. If her mother somehow found out, Iris had no doubt she'd ask too many questions.

"_All right. Thank you."_

Iris saw the subsequent pause as a good time to knock, which she did rapidly—and quite loudly, to make sure they heard her, and Benedict turned to the side to face her just as she appeared in the doorway. Benedict was standing beside Violet's seat at the desk, leaning towards her, and she was still entirely focused on the typewriter and guest list in front of her.

"Uh, hi," Iris said awkwardly, feeling very much like an intruder. She held up the pitcher of water and empty glass she'd somehow managed to balance with one hand—though she did feel as if she was about to drop the smaller object any moment now. "I just wanted to bring you some water, Violet. You'll need it."

"Thank you, Iris," Violet replied, still not turning to look at her. She seemed completely distracted. Benedict let out a little cough, told Violet he was going downstairs but to call for him if she needed anything, and left without a word to Iris.

Now that she was left alone with Violet, Iris was unsure of what to say or do. She couldn't very well say anything about the girl's pregnancy, since that would let Benedict know she'd been eavesdropping. So, Iris only poured some water from the pitcher into the glass and set it down next to Violet, who had already resumed typing at a steady pace. "Make sure you drink enough, okay?"

Violet gave her a nod in return, but didn't take her eyes off her work. As always, Violet Evergarden was completely focused on the task at hand. Were she not so strange otherwise, Iris would have admired that quality. But as it stood, it only puzzled her.

Then, Iris glimpsed back down at the invitation list, and froze at the sight of one name in particular. "Violet," she said firmly, and the other Doll finally stopped typing. "Is everything all right?"

Iris pressed the tip of her finger to that specific name. "Emonn Snow. Don't write an invitation for him."

"Even though his name is on the list?" Violet questioned, and Iris nodded. Violet tilted her head in confusion. "But… why not?"

"Just because," Iris replied flippantly. She didn't feel like telling Violet that there were some people from her hometown that she'd rather not see.

"Your parents are the ones who chose these guests," Violet answered. "They are the ones who arranged it. I don't believe you have the right to remove him from the list."

Her perfectly even, almost cold tone of voice made Iris' blood boil. For an instant, she didn't care that Violet had just fainted not long ago, or even that she was pregnant. The girl was acting completely detached and even a little self-righteous. "Just do what I asked!"

"Yes, but—"

Iris silenced her with a raised finger. "_I'm_ the one who was requested. You're only my stand-in. Got it?"

Violet said nothing in argument, only went right back to typing.

* * *

Some time later, when Violet had finished writing the invitations, Benedict set off to deliver them without so much as being asked, and slipped out the front door before anyone could argue with him. Iris watched him leave from her usual spot on the living room couch, and her mother, who'd been observing him from the dining table, let out a little laugh when Iris rolled her eyes at his frantic efforts to make himself scarce. (Violet was resting upstairs without any further incidents, so he'd finally relaxed in that regard.)

Iris turned to face her mother, still leery of her after their disagreement. "What's so funny, Mom?" Her mother sighed and shrugged, leaning against the table.

"You're quite fond of him," she pointed out. "I can tell. Trust me, I know waiting for them to propose can be difficult, but—"

"Mom." Iris cut her off with a firm tone. "I'm not sure if I want to marry him. We haven't been together long enough to know that."

She tilted her head at Iris, clearly confused. "Really? Then why did you use this request as an opportunity to introduce us?"

Iris sighed. "I didn't. It was just how things turned out. If I hadn't sprained my wrist, Violet wouldn't have joined me, and if Violet hadn't come, neither would've Ben. Part of his job right now is assisting Violet. Our boss wants him to, for some reason. And if he knows why, Ben hasn't told me." _Because we're not actually a couple, and in reality, we loathe each other_, she thought bitterly. _Well_, she conceded, thinking back on the few civil moments they'd had. _Most of the time. _She didn't even want to consider why her mother had come to the conclusion that she was clearly fond of him.

Her mother frowned, setting her chin in her hand. "Doesn't that concern you? He obviously seems quite close to Violet."

Iris had to scoff at what she knew her mother was worrying about, and shook her head. "Ben's not possessive, and neither am I. Besides, I think they're… related, or something. They look alike, that's for sure."

That got a nod from her mother as she thought it over, and she chuckled. "You know, when I first saw them standing side by side, I thought the two of them were brother and sister." Iris shook her head, collapsing against the couch. "They're not, but it sure does look like it."

An awkward silence settled in for a few minutes, until Iris couldn't take it any longer and got up from the couch. "I'm going to bed," she announced, heading towards the stairs. "Tell Ben where the spare room is. And Violet can stay with me, I don't mind."

She didn't wait for a reply before climbing the stairs as fast as possible and disappearing into her room. Iris knew she had to get away from her mother and away from Benedict for a little while to preserve her sanity. Violet could pose a problem, but for the most part, the girl had been very quiet. Iris could handle quiet.

But she'd had enough of her mother and her constant insistence that she knew Iris better than Iris knew herself.

* * *

The next day was hectic, with the house practically buzzing as everyone prepared for the party that was to take place the day after. Iris helped her mother cook, and pretended not to hear every time she insinuated something about Benedict. Violet kept busy by assisting Iris with small tasks in the kitchen—and later, setting up some things in the backyard—while Benedict surprisingly found himself being a source of amusement for the two children. Iris' two much younger cousins followed him around for almost the entire day, plying him with question after question about the city. They had taken a particular liking to the heeled boots he still hadn't taken off since they got to Kazalli—Iris was beginning to wonder if he even owned any other shoes. He still kept a careful eye on Violet, of course, and made sure she rested frequently. Ordinarily, Iris would have been annoyed that he wasn't doing much else to help out, but in this case was grateful that, for once, she didn't have to be the one keeping the kids out of the way. She cared for her cousins, of course, but had never been all that good with children—or particularly fond of them, for that matter.

Benedict, however, actually seemed to enjoy himself—especially when speaking to the younger of her two cousins, the eight-year-old girl Bridget. Benedict was acting… kinder than usual, even compared to the way he acted towards Violet. Whenever Bridget spoke to him, he bent down to her level, easily meeting her eye as she talked, and even made her laugh more than once.

Eventually, though, Iris' mother caught her observing him, and let out a laugh. Iris whirled on her, indignant, and snapped, "What's so funny?"

"You don't have to worry, dear," her mother replied, not answering Iris' question in the slightest. She looked more at peace than Iris had seen her in a long time, and she was smiling as though she really meant it. "If you're wondering about children, I'm sure he'd do well with them.

Iris almost shrieked at the thought. Never mind that she was only pretending to go out with Benedict—the idea of having children, with anyone, had always been almost repulsive to her. Of course, she loved her cousins, but that was not the same as being responsible for her own children.

Still, Iris forced a laugh. "Oh, uh… actually, I was just watching the kids. Making sure they don't bother him too much." Which, in its own way, was true—she knew from personal experience that her cousins could be quite the nuisances if left unsupervised.

Her mother gave her a bright smile, one that Iris knew she used when she didn't fully believe another person, but couldn't bring herself to feel upset about the lie. Iris opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her mother's expression suddenly changed as she looked past Iris and Benedict, letting out a sigh.

Iris tilted her head in confusion for a moment, then let her eyes follow her mother's. She was watching Violet, who was dutifully arranging some flowers in a vase for a centerpiece. Violet was always so _quiet_ that her presence unnerved Iris, so there was a chance that her mother shared the same opinion. "Everything okay, Mom?"

"I worry about that girl," her mother murmured in reply. "Strange, I know, but I do. I just… have a feeling she's been through a lot. Mother's intuition, I suppose." Iris wondered if she should tell her mother about Violet having been a soldier, but decided against it. Violet should be the one to talk about that, if in fact she chose to reveal it at all. So, Iris decided to say nothing.

Privately, though, she allowed herself a moment of pity for Violet Evergarden. She'd seen hell, and was now expecting a child on top of that. And the girl didn't even have a mother to turn to, the way Iris herself would have if she was in a similar situation. While it was true that she and her mother didn't always get along, she knew that if she needed help with something like that, her mother would be there.

* * *

The celebration was filled with people by the following afternoon, chattering and laughing and crowding around tables filled with food. Iris was left to her own devices when it came to Benedict—he was so preoccupied with helping Violet and entertaining Bridget and her older brother Thomas that Iris hadn't spoken to him all day. Not that she minded too much, if she was being honest. His presence alone was enough to keep her mother from trying to set her up with one of the many male guests her parents had invited.

Benedict not paying much attention to her was why she never expected to be interrupted. Iris was in the middle of a conversation with two of her childhood friends, answering their questions about Leiden, when he suddenly raced towards her, shouting her name. "IRIS!"

Iris let out a low groan at the sound of his voice, turning away from her friends. "One second, girls." She stomped a few feet across the lawn, glaring when he stopped short a few paces away from her. "What the hell do you want? I was in the middle of a conversation!"

"Sorry," he replied distractedly, but Iris knew he wasn't remorseful at all. Then he sighed. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up. If Bridget calls me 'Uncle Ben', I did _not_ teach her that. She kinda just… started doing it. No idea why," he explained, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

Iris had to laugh. "Okay, I'm still very mad you interrupted me, but that's kinda funny. She must really like you." Benedict shrugged, but he was smiling.

Then, he looked her up and down without any subtlety—causing Iris to glare and fold her arms across her chest—and he grinned as it struck him that she was wearing a red dress reserved for special occasions and not her usual outfit. "You look really pretty." There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and it almost annoyed her even more than the leering.

"I hate you, Benedict."

"So you keep reminding me," he replied. Then he smirked. "Try not to hate me too much in front of your mom, though. She's watching us right now." As he said this, he glanced past Iris' shoulder with a discreet nod to let her know which direction her mother was observing them from.

Iris groaned, covering her eyes with her good hand. "I'm gonna kill her." Benedict snickered, and was about to say something else when a new voice, familiar to her and unfamiliar to him, cut him off.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Iris tensed, moving her hand away from her eyes, and looked up to find that Emonn Snow, the one person she had told Violet not to invite, was standing before her. For a moment, Iris thought she might have been seeing things, or looking at a different person with the same voice, but it was him—the same brown hair, dark eyes, and height that surpassed Benedict's by a little bit even with his heeled boots on. "It's been a while, Iris. Happy birthday."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Benedict's jaw drop, and Iris had just enough sense left in her to hit him on the shoulder, as a reminder to not just stand there gaping in the same way Bridget did the first time she got a glimpse of Benedict's ridiculous high heeled boots. He promptly closed his mouth, but it was obvious he wasn't going to say anything. Which meant Iris had to deal with this on her own.

Iris turned away, not able to bear even looking at him. "Wh… why'd you come?" He stiffened, and for a moment, looked confused. "Well, because I received an invitation."

She almost gasped aloud. Violet had, in fact, done the one thing Iris had asked her not to do. So, Iris mumbled an "excuse me" and pushed past him, over to a corner of the yard where Violet sat resting in a chair, under the shade of a tree. She could hear Benedict sputtering protests behind her, but in that moment, couldn't bring herself to care.

"You sent Emonn an invitation?!" she hissed, without any precursor. Violet, who was currently sitting perfectly still, hardly blinked as she looked up at Iris.

"After I went to confirm with your mother, I was instructed to send him one."

For a moment, blind anger filled Iris. Her hands curled into fists as she clenched her teeth, all but biting her tongue in an effort not to scream at the other girl. For a moment, she turned to look behind her, and saw that Benedict was having what looked to be a very awkward conversation with Emonn. And that alone was enough to push her anger over the edge. She didn't want to see or speak to any of them.

So, without another word, she turned and stormed off across the yard. When she reached the house, the door slammed behind her, and for once, Iris did not care who heard.

Unbeknownst to her, once she'd gone inside, Benedict promptly excused himself. After muttering a curse under his breath, he fumbled through an awkward excuse to Emonn, and tried to run back into the house without it being too obvious that he was going after her.

Iris knew it was him standing in the doorway before he even said anything—unlike before, the door to her room was left open, and she recognized the click of his heels against the wood floor. He was walking rather slowly, she noticed. Iris shifted her weight, changing position so that her back was facing the doorway.

She didn't want him to see her face when it was like this. Tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks in hot streaks. Iris fought back sobs as she curled into a ball, digging her fingernails so far into her legs she felt a little blood. She hated crying. He'd probably think her weak for doing so, anyway.

There was a slight knock at the doorframe, and Iris sighed. "Go away, Benedict. I don't wanna talk to you." She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back more tears threatening to spill over.

"So don't talk, then," he replied easily, stepping further into the room. She could tell by both the sound of his shoes and simply feeling his presence in the room that he was standing right behind her. "Just listen. _Please_."

Iris had never heard him say _please_ before.

She let out a sigh, curling into an even tighter ball. "Fine. I'm listening." Iris tilted her head to one side. "Is this gonna be another personal anecdote about how I shouldn't be like you?"

"No. No, it's not," he sighed. "I just thought I'd… well, I just want to know if you're all right." Iris almost laughed aloud at that. Benedict was, once again, proving he was the world's biggest idiot. She was in her room, shoes abandoned on the floor, curled in a ball and fighting tears, and all he could do was _ask_ if she was okay.

Iris ducked her head between her knees, drawing in a deep breath so she wouldn't sob. Then she caved in and laughed, quietly and to herself. But there was no humor in her next words.

"Fuck you, Benedict." Iris sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Violet does the one thing I ask her not to do, and suddenly I have to see _him_ after finally putting my old life out of my mind, and you have the _nerve_ to ask if I'm all right?" She finally turned to look at him, certain that there was a fire burning in her eyes.

Good. She _wanted_ him to see it.

"Fuck that," Iris spat at him. "I already told you not to pretend. So just… _stop_ pretending to care about me and get the hell out. _Please_." Her tone was not pleading, unlike his had been. It oozed every ounce of bitterness towards Emonn and her family that she'd kept hidden away for so long.

More tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision, and in that moment, she expected him to turn and walk away. However, he only stood still for several moments, looking down at her as the tears flowed. This only caused more rage to boil over in her. "What's wrong with you?!" she almost screeched at him. "I told you to leave me alone!"

Then, with a sigh, he dropped to one knee, so that he was eye-to-eye with her. "I do know you're not alright," he murmured. Iris was about to snap at him for stating the obvious, when she noticed he was reaching towards her with one hand.

She slapped it away. "Don't touch me!"

To his credit, he stopped short and moved both hands away from her. He opened his mouth, faltered, and let out a groan. "Man, I'm bad at this. I'm sorry." Benedict ran a hand through his hair anxiously and grimaced. "Do you, uh… wanna talk about it?"

Iris scoffed. At least he was honest about being absolutely terrible at talking to people about how they were feeling. "To _you_? No thanks."

Much to her surprise, he chuckled, and an easy smile spread over his face. "Aw, come on. You're supposed to tell me stuff. You're my girlfriend, remember?"

She almost hit him for real over that remark, but managed to keep her temper at bay just enough to relax the tense sitting position she was in and reply. There were things he needed to know, that she had to tell him now, otherwise she never would.

"Not when we're alone, I'm not." He opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. "I mean it, Benedict. It's fine to bicker a little and put on a mask for my parents—I mean, I do that anyway. But like this? We—_I_—can't do this."

Iris stretched out further on the bed, so that she was lying mostly on her stomach instead of sitting curled in a ball, and rested her chin in her good hand. In all the time it took her to reply, he only watched her and fidgeted with his hands. He was waiting to hear what she'd say next—and Iris was grateful that, for once, she could take the time and say what she needed to.

"We can't cross lines like this," Iris went on. "Maybe you're good at not getting attached to people, but I'm not. Even if I don't wanna get attached, it still happens. If you keep acting like this, but we go back to the way things were before once we leave… I know it isn't gonna end well, for you _or_ me. Understand?"

He sighed and nodded slightly. There was a strange, vacant look in his blue eyes in that moment, one that Iris had never seen on him before. He almost seemed… reflective. It was difficult to imagine such a look on Benedict, since he'd never seemed like the type to do much thinking before. But, on the other hand, there _was_ a first time for everything.

"I understand," he said simply, without argument. That was definitely new. "If you really don't wanna talk about it—"

"I don't." The finality of her words seemed to hit him at last, and he slowly got back onto his feet—he had to stabilize himself with the mattress she was sitting on due to the rather precarious nature of his heeled shoes.

Once he'd gotten his bearings, Benedict nodded in a sort of silent acknowledgment that he'd heard everything she had to say. Then he coughed slightly and asked, "Is that why you stopped calling me Ben?" And he was right—she hadn't used the nickname for him at all that day, not even when speaking to other people about him. Iris only shrugged in reply.

"Can you do me a favor?" Iris suddenly asked, just as he turned to leave. Her voice had softened considerably, and was much clearer than it had been when he'd first walked in—she'd obviously managed to calm down.

Another nod. "Sure. What is it?"

"Tell Violet I wanna talk to her," Iris replied. "I just… have some things I'd like to ask her. Oh, and… if you could just tell the guests I'm not feeling well—"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "I get it, Iris. I've been there myself. Sort of." Then, the slight smile that was on his face faded, and he cleared his throat audibly. "Listen, um… I do think you should know that Violet wasn't trying to hurt you. She just gets… confused, sometimes. There's a lot of things she doesn't understand."

Benedict turned around and took another step towards the doorway, and Iris was about to say something else to him when he spoke again. "For what it's worth… I think you'll find something one day that makes you really happy. That's… what I came here to say, and I said it."

His reply caught her so completely off-guard that she was stunned into silence, and could not think of anything to say back to him. By the time she managed to even open her mouth, he was gone.

_Thank you, Benedict_, she thought. _For once… I don't hate you._

* * *

Some time later, Benedict followed through on the favor she'd asked of him, and Iris sat alone with Violet in her bedroom, staring out at nothing while the other Doll stood at her side and watched her with a blank expression.

"I asked you not to send that invitation, Violet," Iris sighed, turning to look at her. Violet was stoic as ever, not even blinking. "I didn't want to see him."

"I only did what was asked of me," Violet murmured. For the first time, her expression faltered ever so slightly, and her eyes flickered towards the floor for an instant. "Why did you not want to see him? I cannot understand the problem if you do not provide a reason."

Benedict's words flashed in her mind. _There's a lot of things she doesn't understand._ Iris finally got up from her bed, standing to face Violet. "Because… he already turned me down," she admitted, staring down at the floor to hide the tears pricking at her eyes for the second time that day.

It took Violet a moment to recall the meaning of that phrase, but it was something that had come up in a conversation with Benedict once—he'd had to explain it to her after telling her about the same thing happening to him when speaking to a girl that worked in the reception area at the postal company.

"Do you mean that you previously approached him romantically, but you were rejected?" Iris looked away from her, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Before she could say anything in reply, Violet went on, "You expressed affection for him, but you were refused."

"Yes, okay?!" Iris snapped. "That's exactly what it means!" Finally, she burst into tears, dropping to her knees at Violet's feet.

In that moment, Violet remembered something that had happened to her more than two years before. It was an act of kindness Gilbert had showed her, when she too had been crying over something that happened to her, and in an instant knew what to do for Iris.

She dropped to one knee, setting a hand on the girl's shoulder. Iris looked up at her, puzzled, then froze when Violet spoke. "It's all right. You'll be okay."

However, much to Violet's surprise, Iris pulled away from her, rising up to her full height. "No, it's not okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Iris let out a sob, tugging at her hair with one hand in frustration.

"You really don't understand other people's feelings, do you?!"

At that, Violet froze. While it was true it had only been a month since she left the hospital, she had spent quite a bit of time reading books and listening to other people in order to understand them better. She had even spoken to Hodgins about what she was learning, and he had commended her efforts. Violet had thought she had a better grasp on emotions now.

"I am very sorry," she murmured, bowing her head slightly. "I thought that I had finally come to understand feelings better. But people's feelings… are quite complex and sensitive." Violet sighed, getting up from her position on the floor. "Not everyone chooses to say exactly how they feel. Sometimes they say the opposite, or even lie about it. It's very difficult for me to accurately understand them. I'm afraid I don't always get it right." She sank into a low bow. "I am truly sorry."

At that, Iris remembered Benedict's advice to her once again, and felt the familiar burning sensation of shame within her chest. Feelings really were complicated, even for ordinary people. It was difficult for her to imagine what Violet was going through—after all, Iris had grown up relatively normally. And not only was Violet an orphan, she'd been a soldier, and that was probably how she'd lost her arms.

She had suffered so much, and was still trying her best to be kind.

So, Iris closed her eyes, suppressing tears that were now threatening to spill over for an entirely different reason. "Stop bowing," she got out. "I know you didn't mean any harm. It's not like I always know how other people feel, either," she conceded, chuckling slightly.

Then, Violet—who was known by now for her perpetual blank expression—regarded her with what Iris might call shock. It only flashed in her eyes for an instant, but it was there. "Is that really true?"

Iris sighed, looking away from her in embarrassment. "Yeah. It is." The guilt she felt for lashing out only increased in that moment. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she murmured, turning back to meet Violet's gaze.

It may have been Iris' imagination, but she thought the slightest frown appeared on Violet's face. "I am… nice?" Iris didn't hesitate to nod.

"I've been nothing but cold to you, but you still tried to comfort me. That's very nice of you." _Especially since I don't deserve it_, Iris thought, but didn't say.

Violet, in return, gave her the tiniest of nods. "I see. I was only imitating something that was done for me before. I was… frightened, and someone comforted me."

"What happened?" Iris asked, without thinking. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Violet shook her head. "I do not mind telling you. You don't mean any harm by asking." She let out a sigh, one hand going to the emerald brooch that Iris knew the Doll always wore. "When I was a soldier, I killed one of the major's men. He was not there at the time, so I didn't know what to do. I… remained where I was, until he found me."

Iris tensed at that, but said nothing as Violet continued with her story. She knew that soldiers, for the most part, were faced with the decision to take lives at one time or another, but to hear it from Violet herself was another matter—never mind that it wasn't even an enemy combatant.

"I thought he would be angry with me," Violet went on. "I was…I believe the word is surprised, to find that he was not. He only asked me why I killed the other soldier, and when I told him…" Her fingers closed tighter around the brooch. "He embraced me. The major said it was not my fault that the soldier forced me to defend myself. He promised me that… that no one would ever try to touch me like that again." Violet squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "He told me that it would be okay."

Iris gasped. "That soldier tried to attack you? That's… that's horrible."

Violet only nodded. "He would not let me go, so I… stabbed him. I did not intend to kill him. I only wanted him to leave me alone." As she uttered that last sentence, her voice grew very quiet—as if she was envisioning it all over again. Iris shook her head, setting one hand on Violet's shoulder the same way Violet had tried to do for her just minutes before.

"It was self-defense," Iris was unable to stop herself from replying. "I agree with the major on that one. The soldier… he didn't hurt you, did he?" When Violet shook her head in answer, Iris let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I stopped him before he was able to," Violet explained, and Iris nodded. "Good. Frankly, he deserved it." Then, she sighed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else about this. Your secret's safe with me."

Violet said nothing in response, so Iris ushered her to the side, where a table and two chairs rested against the window. "Come on, let's sit down. There's some things I wanna tell you, too."

Before Iris could even suggest it, Violet lit the oil lamp that sat between them, and Iris started speaking without much of a prelude, knowing that Violet did not seem to mind.

"Emonn is… a childhood friend of mine," she explained. "He was always very kind to me, ever since we were little kids. I was, well, in love with him." Her cheeks went pink as she admitted that fact, even though it was undeniable. "I just assumed he had feelings for me, too, and for whatever reason just hadn't told me yet. Which was why I told him, right before we graduated." Iris' gaze dropped to the tabletop, and she tapped her fingers against it listlessly.

Iris bit her lip as she thought for a moment, then went on, "I finally worked up the nerve to just say it. '_I love you_'. But, unfortunately…" Her eyes closed. "He didn't feel the same, and said he only thought of me as a friend. And I… reacted badly."

She sighed, and her eyes blinked open. "I couldn't take it. All I wanted to do was disappear. I knew I couldn't be happy here like this. So, even though I wasn't good at writing, I studied hard, and went to Leiden to become an Auto-Memory Doll. To try and put it all behind me."

Violet shut her own eyes for a moment. To Iris, it looked as though she was trying to think of something, so she stayed silent and waited. When her eyes opened, there was something different about them. She seemed almost… sad.

"I guess that... one needs a lot of courage to say 'I love you'," Violet finally replied, and Iris was all but stunned into silence, only able to give a small, mute nod as the other girl spoke. "So much so that they will want to flee if their feelings are not reciprocated." Again, the tips of her fingers touched the gemstone secured to her dress, and she murmured, "I wonder… if it was the same for the major, then."

Iris did not know what to say in response to that revelation. She had mentioned this major a few times before, but up until their current conversation, had not given any indication that he cared about her in such a way.

So, she asked the only question she could think of. "Who… who _is_ the major?"

"My superior officer," Violet replied. She still hadn't let go of the brooch, and in that moment Iris remembered the day Hodgins returned it to Violet, and realized—the major had been the one to give her that brooch. Then, the Doll sighed. "You see, I became a Doll so I could finally understand what he meant by 'I love you'."

Finally, Iris understood. The military seemed to be the only thing Violet knew, but it seemed this major of hers had given her something besides orders, something most took for granted because it was first given to them in childhood. He'd loved her. And Violet only wanted to understand what that meant. Almost instantly, any resentment Iris had for the other girl melted away—her reasons for becoming a Doll were nothing Iris could blame her for.

Which was why, hours later, when she could not sleep from the guilt of hurting her family—her mother had been especially affected by her outburst—she asked Violet to help her write a letter.

Violet aided Iris in writing an apology letter to the party guests, and she also requested a letter for Violet to give to her mother and father. She wanted them to know how sorry she was, but that she'd chosen to work as a Doll, and that she needed more time to be her own person. And, despite wondering whether she'd come to regret it, Iris even admitted in the letter that Benedict was nothing more than a colleague, and apologized for lying about that, too. (She made a note to herself to inform him of her confession in the morning, before he had a chance to speak with her parents.) And what she really needed them to know was that she loved them, very much, and therefore made a point of saying so in her letter.

She also thanked Violet as soon as she had finished typing. It was the least Iris could do for her, after all.

* * *

The next morning, Iris bid her parents goodbye at the train station. Benedict apologized to them as well for helping Iris lie, but neither one of them seemed too upset about it. Benedict also tried to joke about the ordeal, and Iris retaliated by hitting him in the stomach with her briefcase—after which he left to sulk inside the train station.

Iris never thought they would actually get around to leaving, until the whistle that signaled the train departing necessitated the end of their conversation. Both of her parents embraced her and thanked her for the letter, and finally Iris broke into a run, with Violet behind her, to board the train before it left without them.

Benedict had already found a seat on the train by the time they boarded. He was sitting with one hand behind his back, and grinning in such a way that Iris shot him a glare the moment she sat down. "What'd you do now, Benedict?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied all too nonchalantly. The grin left his face, but Iris could still see the amusement in his eyes. "I will never admit this again, but I realize now that I have been a bit of a jerk to you."

Iris snorted. "A bit?"

"Hey, let me finish," he shot back. "Anyway, if you tell anyone else about this, I'll deny it, but…I felt bad. Kind of. So, to make up for it, I got you these." He leaned forward in his seat, finally moving his hand out from behind his back so she could see what Benedict was holding.

It was a small bouquet of blue and yellow flowers, tied together neatly at the stems with a ribbon. "Happy birthday, I guess. It _is_ a little late." He chuckled.

She took them from him without a word, unable to do anything but stare down at the petals. Violet, who was seated across from her, seemed too distracted from looking out the window to even notice what was taking place—until she turned back to glance at Iris, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the flowers.

Iris herself could feel her face going red as the realization that Benedict had just given her flowers hit her fully—more from annoyance than anything. She'd thought he understood not crossing lines, especially since he'd said so himself.

She felt an urge to hide her face behind the blossoms, but resisted the impulse long enough to ask, "Are these irises?" She already knew they were, of course, but wanted to hear it from him.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was the first thing I thought of, and since we were in a rush, I went with that. Sorry if you don't like flowers, I just—"

"It's fine," she cut him off. "I'm just a little… surprised, that's all." Then, she smirked. "What, are we friends now?"

Benedict said nothing in return.

Iris didn't complain, since she was grateful for a bit of quiet. She let silence settle in for a few minutes, until Violet turned towards her and spoke up. "Do you think the letter was able to explain to your parents how you feel?"

Iris nodded. "Couldn't you tell from seeing their reaction?" Violet did not respond, only glanced down at the floor, and Iris sighed.

"It was a nice letter, you know. The letter _you_ wrote got through to them." She smiled. "Because it was written well."

Violet drew in a sharp breath. "Are you saying that I wrote… a good letter?" Iris could not help but give a little laugh in response—her mood had improved a great deal since reconciling with her parents. "Yes, of course I am!"

Benedict gave the girl a smile that, to Iris, seemed unusually warm. Normally, whenever he smiled, it was a wide grin that intended to annoy more than anything else. "You did good, Vi," he murmured thoughtfully. "You did a very good thing."

Iris nodded in agreement. Before she could say anything, Benedict attempted to reach up and ruffle her hair—but was stopped when Violet put his hand in a viselike grip and told him she would prefer if he did not do that. Quickly, he gave up on teasing Violet, and leaned back as much as possible in his seat.

Comfortable silence fell once more, until Iris noticed Violet staring rather intently at the bouquet Benedict had given her. "You all right?"

"Those flowers. Irises," Violet answered, tilting her head slightly. "They are… very pretty."

At that moment, Iris glanced out the window, and gestured to something beyond the glass. "Look, down there."

The train was passing by a rolling field of flowers, identical to the ones Iris was holding. "These flowers were in full bloom when I was born, you know," she said thoughtfully. "That's why my parents named me Iris. After the flowers."

Violet gasped aloud at the sight of so many blooms sprawled out on the field below. It reminded her of a different sort of flower, one she'd seen all those years ago when she first met Gilbert.

It had been a few days since his brother had given Violet over to him, and she was walking by his side completely silently—she had not yet spoken a single word to him. Even though she was not frightened, Violet had not been able to speak.

_You never answered before when I asked your name,_ he murmured. _I know you understood me. _Then he'd let out a sigh and asked an altogether different question. _Do you… have a name?_

Violet could not remember any name being used for her before then, so she shook her head. Her major had nodded to show he understood, and asked if, since that was the case, he could give her a name. When she had assented once more, he stopped walking, and Violet had followed suit.

She was nameless in those days, so he had not referred to her as anything. But he had smiled slightly at her then. _Well, I'll need a bit of time to think about it. It has to suit you_, he'd said.

They resumed walking at a slow pace, and he'd said nothing more on the matter until he'd gone a fair distance and realized she was no longer following him. Violet remembered him coming back towards her, his eyes following hers to see what had gotten her attention.

A small purple flower had sprung up in one of the cracked bricks of the building they were walking next to, and she had stared down at the bloom for quite some time before her major caught up to her.

The sound of his footsteps drawing closer had caused her to look up, and he'd smiled at her again. _They are pretty flowers, aren't they?_ Violet had, of course, not responded, but she did not need to for him to keep speaking. _These sort of flowers are called violets_, he explained. _My youngest sister keeps them in her window._

Violet had not understood much of what he said then, but she did not mind remembering it now. _Violet_, he'd said to her, after a pause. _How does that sound, for a name?_ She had only nodded her head slightly, but that seemed to please him.

_Well, I think that suits you_, he'd murmured thoughtfully. _Your name is Violet. I have a feeling you'll grow into it soon enough._

Gilbert had told her then that, one day, as soon as he could get her away from the fighting, she would not be a weapon. She would be a person, who that name belonged to. She remembered the last thing he had said on the matter, when his voice dropped to barely a whisper. _I promise you that._

Violet had not known what it meant to promise something all those years ago, but she did now. He had promised her that one day, she would no longer have to fight, and that she would be known as Violet instead of as his weapon.

And her major had kept that promise. Violet was no longer thought of by most as a tool meant to serve a purpose. She was seen as something living, free to express any thoughts and feelings that she understood—and free to ask about what she did not understand.

Suddenly, the familiar stirring of the baby within her brought her out of her memories, and one hand went to her stomach, the way it nearly always did when she was reminded of the baby. Iris was not watching her, but Benedict frowned a little when he saw what she was doing. "You okay, Vi?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm fine."

What she did not tell him was that something inside of her hurt. It was not the same as any physical pain from an injury or illness, but she could not think of a better word for the sharp, hollow feeling within her chest. Once more, she thought of her major.

_Will I see you again soon, Gilbert?_ she wondered.

Violet Evergarden could only hope she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I had a lot of fun writing the snark between Iris and Benedict. And before you ask about Cattleya and Hodgins, I'm setting something up there. Comments/kudos are appreciated! (Please give me validation, I almost went nuts trying to finish this! I say this in good humor, but seriously. I Am Very Tired.)


End file.
